If You Need Her
by Scribe Figaro
Summary: What if you had a second chance at life? What if you could carry only a single name from your own grave? A determined Miroku searches for Sango, his only link to the life he once had. COMPLETED!
1. Miroku's Journey: Part I

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

**MIROKU'S JOURNEY: PART I**

__

"I find it kind of funny   
I find it kind of sad   
The dreams in which I'm dying   
Are the best I've ever had.   
I find it hard to tell you   
I find it hard to take   
When people run in circles   
It's a very very mad world."   
- Gary Jules, "Mad World" __

"If you need her   
You should be there.   
Go home."   
-Barenaked Ladies, "Go Home" 

Sesshoumaru's travels these days brought him not far behind his brother. He hadn't meant it, wanting to be the first to fight Naraku. He had, after all, nearly defeated this Sesshoumaru. Such an act required a retribution unheard of in these lands, and he would be damned if he would allow a worthless hanyou to exact the revenge that Sesshoumaru would make so much sweeter, so much more drawn-out, so much more spectacular. He would destroy Naraku, tear him to bits for capturing him, for taking his property, and for ever thinking, even for a moment, that he had found a weakness in Sesshoumaru. And after the creature he so hated, hated even more than his brother, was scattered to dust, he would dip his hands in Naraku's blood and write his name all over these lands, that he Sesshoumaru was undefeated and undefeatable, unsurpassed was his strength, unfathomable was his power, and insatiable was his anger. Endless was his domain, and hopeless were all those that did less but bow to his supremacy and beg for his permission to kiss the ground that might someday be trod upon by his foot. 

Despite all this, his emotion did not hinder him as it did his brother. Always would Inuyasha be controlled by emotion, for only empathy allowed him to wield Tetsusaiga, and only fear allowed his youkai blood to strengthen him. For these reasons Inuyasha was weak, and though he was at times a notable adversary with his father's sword, he would never, ever be his equal. For these reasons Inuyasha would fail to find Naraku, for his rage and impatience would surely blind him to evidence of Naraku's whereabouts. 

Seshoumaru traveled at his own pace, usually ahead of the hanyou but sometimes behind. When his youkai senses alerted him to a strange perturbation in the aura of a place, when he sensed the slightest tinge of jaki that his brothers' inferior senses may have missed, he would stop and investigate. He was caught off guard by Naraku's tricks before; it would not happen again. If the flight of jaki to the northeast was a ruse, and Naraku was hiding here among Sesshoumaru's own lands, this Sesshoumaru would have his revenge, all while his father's shame chased another of Naraku's puppets to the sea. 

So Sesshoumaru had come to a road not far from several small human villages, following his indication of a presence of Naraku or something like him. More often than not these were nothing, but also he could smell a creature having half his blood, and he could tell that Inuyasha was no more than four days on this same road. If by some inordinate amount of luck Inuyasha came across Naraku, Sesshoumaru would reach him before Inuyasha had time to draw his blade. 

Inuyasha traveled so very slow, and even more so with the humans he associated himself with. 

On that thought he stopped. Before him the village loomed, and in the waning sunlight he could see humans going about their evening rituals. He could smell their food – admittedly a not unpleasant sensation – and see children being called for supper. These were children much like Rin, though far less disciplined. If a human child had addressed him as "Papa" rather than Sesshoumaru-sama, he would break its neck with a single thoughtless blow. 

A slight wind ruffled the fur over his shoulder and tugged at his clothes. He turned to his right as he heard the slight ringing of metal upon metal. 

There, in the meadow just outside the village, overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, a lone shakujou was planted, slanted ever so slightly to the north. It was half a kilometer from the road, but even from such a distance it was no feat for Sesshoumaru to notice the same holy staff that was carried by the houshi following Inuyasha. 

He approached the staff. A human would not smell death even with his nose buried in the ground above a corpse, but Sesshoumaru could tell he was approaching a grave only a few steps from the road. 

Now he stood in the trampled circle around a mound of dirt, at the head of which the staff was planted. Inuyasha, the two human females that served him, and a kitsune had spent a long time here. 

At the foot of the grave he noted the offerings; fairly typical for these creatures: A picture of the houshi drawn with multicolored waxes, quite rudimentary in style, having a head much too large and arms much too wide. He held the skakujou in his left arm and was holding his right hand prominently in the air. Short yellow lines encircled the naked wrist and palm, making it abundantly and idiotically clear that the houshi was in some other place where the void Sesshoumaru had seen him use no longer existed. Anthropomorphic clouds and a sun made it abundantly clear this was an offering from the kitsune. The picture had been tacked to a piece of wood to give it a backing, but even with this the paper was beginning to fade through exposure to the sun. 

Beside the picture was an offering of food that was faring no better – inside a large tin was a mass of reeking food that he probably wouldn't be able to identify even if it were fresh. 

The last item of offering was a bundle of green cloth, the meaning of which was a mystery to Sesshoumaru. 

The youkai stood there long enough to be certain there was nothing of interest here. For a brief moment he wondered what killed the human, but just as quickly he realized he cared not. It became clear to him now that the jaki he sensed was not Naraku, and he could waste no more time here. 

The toe of one boot dug into the ground as he turned to leave. 

The Tenseiga throbbed. __

Nani? 

Sesshoumaru's hand absently grazed the hilt of the healing sword. __

I would not have expected the Tenseiga to revive people so long after decay has settled in, he thought. 

The same hand clasped the hilt. __

I have yet to regret using the sword when it called for me. If the Tenseiga wills it, I will follow its command. Besides, this creature's life is of no consequence to me. 

He drew the sword, holding it straight above the grave. He could feel the power flowing through it, the aura of life and health that never impressed Sesshoumaru. __

Tenseiga, I only wield you because you saved my life twice. It is a courtesy and a sign of respect. Do not think I enjoy wielding you, or that I feel need to follow your commands. 

With great flourish he swing the sword above the grave, then plunged it deep into the ground. Beneath him he felt the strength of the Tenseiga rip through the pallbearers and other creatures of death and decay that were imperceptible to all but Sesshoumaru. 

He pulled loose the sword, and already his youkai ears detected the rustle of movement beneath his feet. Even through the dirt Sesshoumaru could perceive a lack of death and rot beneath him. __

So the Tenseiga reverses decay as well. I suppose that would have to be, otherwise this thing below me would be little more than bones and sinew. 

The rustling below him stopped. Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow, and after a brief pause snorted in something that, were he not a youkai, may have been annoyance. __

Figures he'd be buried too deep. 

The youkai lord turned to leave, but after only a few steps he heard a rumbling beneath him. He jumped aside an instant before a circle of land three meters in diameter, centered over the grave, suddenly became a sinkhole. 

The hole deepened, curving ever farther into the soil, forming a crater now nearly two meters deep. Now a powerful wind formed, sucking at Sesshoumaru, pulling his clothes and hair around him. With his youkai eyes he could see past the hail of dust, see into the crater, see the black void that had drawn in wind and soil and the hand attached to it. A second hand came up from the now shallow soil and quickly wrapped a rosary around the other. The winds ceased, and an instant later the face and chest of the human burst from the grave, drawing in the first breath for days. 

The human, sitting, now pulled at the sides of the hole he had formed, grabbing the shakujou that had fallen into the hole and landed near his shoulder, just outside the pull of the black void. With the shakujou he managed to push himself entirely out of the dirt that had immobilized his legs. Slowly he clawed at the sides of his now exhumed grave, pulling himself higher and higher. 

Now he was eye-level with ground, resting his chin on the cliff of earth he had formed. Suddenly his face turned even whiter and he vomited. 

Sesshoumaru wrinkled his nose. _Such disgusting creatures are humans._

Now the human had pulled himself entirely out of his grave, his shakujou beside him, and lay on his back, breathing heavily, eyes wide with emotions Sesshoumaru did not understand and did not care to understand. The creature was dressed in the same clothes he had seen him in before, though they seemed worn and eaten with decay and filth. They were also crawling with the insects that had been consuming the human for the past few days, but clearly Sesshoumaru could hear them well before the human could feel them. Perhaps his sensations were dulled after his time outside this world, but in any case the human did realize his predicament and with a cry got to his knees, tearing at his robes, robes so worn that they came apart in shreds as he clawed at them, and soon the human was standing naked, clawing at his hair, shouting in frustration and pain and fear. __

Such terribly, terribly disgusting creatures. 

Now he was crying, something he knew human females did at times, and Sesshoumaru nearly sighed in exasperation, failing to believe that the Tenseiga found value in the life of something so pitiful. __

I have nothing to say to this . . . thing. 

Sesshoumaru turned and walked back to where he had left Rin and Jaken. The human never saw him, but even after Sesshoumaru crossed the field, crossed the road, and put a great deal of forest between him and the human, he could hear his voice. His words were strained, clearly suffering from their owner's corpse-dry throat. Or, one should say, his word. There was only one. 

"Sango." ****

Author's Note: 

Confused? Don't worry; all will be made clear in time. I've written about 15 more pages already, but it will take me some time to revise and convert to HTML. Besides, I want to make sure I have enough material so that I can post it steadily, maybe once or twice a week. 

The reviews on my first Inuyasha story were great, and I'm glad to find such a helpful and well-spoken audience. I've found a bunch of typos on the other story, so I'll try to repost a revision. By my own rules for posting things online I will only correct typos and grammatical or spelling errors. Nothing else will change, so anyone who reads it again will find it the same story it was before. 

Anyway, hope you like this too. 

-Scribe of Figaro 

Chapter Written 25 February 2003 


	2. Miroku's Journey: Part II

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

**MIROKU'S JOURNEY: PART II**

_

"I can see my face slumped, with a grin   
And you . . .   
You're the last thing on my mind."   
-Barenaked Ladies

_

The sun drew the shadow of the man far across the field. Slowly he traced the rosary beads around his hand, the only clothed part of his body. __

I was in the dark place, under the Earth. I couldn't breathe, and when my hands were tearing at the dirt around me I felt the beads. So I pulled them loose and then. . . then my hand began to suck everything, and then all the dirt above me was gone. I started to feel scared so I wrapped the beads around my hand again and the vacuum stopped. 

Where am I? 

He glanced around the field, at the road behind him, and at the lights of the houses in the distance. __

I'm outside a village. 

He furrowed his brows. __

Who am I? 

He wasn't Sango; that was certain. Sango was another person, someone he knew. 

"Sango," he whispered again, the word rolling sweetly even off his dry lips. 

Sango was a girl, and a very special girl. __

I love Sango. 

He nodded in satisfaction. He was getting somewhere. Sango was the woman he fell in love with. Sango must have been his wife. 

"I have to save Sango," he whispered, echoing the voice in his head. 

Now he was lost again. He knew why he had to save her – he loved her. But save her from what? Where was Sango? 

He looked around the ground for clues. In the hole he was trapped in before he could see scattered items – some food that was clearly rotten, a picture and a bundle of cloth. He retrieved the cloth and picture and then crawled back up, sitting next to his shakujou. 

The picture was of a Buddhist priest, a houshi, with the same staff that was beside him. The clothes were the same too. __

That must be a picture of me. But in that picture I have nothing on my hand, while I know I have this gauntlet and rosary and black circle on my hand. 

He studied his hand again, noting the protective covers that hung from the gauntlet. Realizing these were meant to cover the black hole on his hand, he adjusted them to cover his palm completely. 

He set aside the picture and then brought the green bundle of cloth into his lap. As he unfolded it he realized it was an apron. It smelled very lightly of perfumes, of rain, of flowers. The scent made him happy for some reason, and he smiled though he didn't know why. 

As he unfolded the apron completely a lock of hair fell from within its folds. 

He studied this hair now, straight and soft and black, bound with a white ribbon. 

"Sango." 

He began to understand now. The smell was Sango. These belonged to her, and they were placed where he was buried. __

I am dead. 

No, that made no sense. He was clearly alive. __

They thought I was dead. 

Yes, that was it. Sango, his wife, thought he was dead, so she buried him. __

But I'm alive. 

Yes, it was a mistake. She thought she was dead, and she gave him these offerings, but he was actually alive. He was probably hurt, somehow, but he wasn't killed. So she buried him, and left him offerings, and now she was probably in that village. 

He glanced at the picture beside him. __

Sango is not a good artist. Or perhaps she is just very young? 

He studied the picture some more, realization suddenly striking him. __

This was drawn by a child! 

Sango and I have a child! 

He was beaming now. Him, a father. Him, Sango, and a child. He had a family. 

"My family," he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. 

He stood, wrapping the apron around him. Clearly Sango was not a large woman, because the apron would not fit him when tied correctly. He turned it sideways and wrapped it around his waist. 

The fundoshi and inner kimono he wore were torn to pieces and smelled very bad besides, so he left them there. The black osode and purple kesa looked in far better shape, so he wrapped those around himself. He could find no sandals, but he probably didn't need any. Picking up the shakujou in one hand and the lock of hair and picture in the other, he walked quickly toward the village. 

Sango was waiting for him, after all. ****

Author's Note: 

Wow. A lot more reviews than I expected. If I keep getting feedback at this rate I might be updating a lot more often. Given that I have a couple very short chapters coming up, that might not be a bad idea. 

Next chapter: Miroku finds a benefactor. 

- Scribe 

Chapter posted 3 March 2003 


	3. Miroku's Journey: Part III

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

**MIROKU'S JOURNEY: PART III** _

_

"I've just seen a face   
I can't forget the time or place   
When we just met   
She's just the girl for me   
And I want all the world to see we've met"   
- The Beatles, "I've Just Seen a Face" 

He didn't get very far. In fact, the first person he saw in the village shouted for him. 

"Houshi-sama!" 

He glanced at her, for a moment thinking he had found Sango already, but he quickly realized he was mistaken. She appeared only a few years older than him, and was very pretty indeed, but the spark of recognition didn't come. He couldn't quite picture Sango in his mind, but he was sure he would know her when he saw her. 

Besides, Sango wouldn't call him "Houshi-sama." She would call him his name. __

Wait. What is my name? 

He smiled as the woman ran toward him, greeting her kindly as a houshi should. 

"Houshi-sama, what happened to you?" 

He heard the question, and yet he didn't. At very least, he could not answer it. 

"Where is my wife?" he asked. "Where is Sango?" 

She seemed startled. "The woman you were traveling with? Houshi-sama, I don't know." 

"Traveling with me? Where?" 

"Houshi-sama, I wouldn't know. You and your friends came through the village. I saw you go back toward the forest to fight the youkai, but after that I never saw any of you. We were afraid you were all killed, but the youkai never returned. So we thought you had simply fled the village before we could reward you for saving us." 

"Youkai!" the houshi shouted. "We fight youkai?" 

He had only vaguely noticed the woman's confusion and growing alarm as the two of them stood in the street just outside her home. Suddenly she gasped. 

"Houshi-sama! You lost your memory!" 

She sounded happy with being able to realize the lone houshi's predicament, but quickly turned sorrowful. 

"Forgive me, Houshi-sama. I didn't mean to sound happy in your misfortune." 

"My memory," he whispered. That should have been obvious to him, but only by hearing the words could he fit a few more pieces of this puzzle into place. 

"Yes!" he said. "I was fighting the youkai, and I was hurt very badly. I must have lost my memory then, and been knocked unconscious. They thought I was dead, so they buried me. But I was alive, and when I came to they were gone." 

The woman clasped her hands to her mouth. "But . . . then you've been crawling around for four days!" 

Her hands were around his waist now, guiding him to her home. 

"Forgive me for keeping you on the street so long, Houshi-sama," she said, nearly crying. "Forgive a stupid woman for letting the man who saved her village stand dying just outside her door." 

His inarticulate protests went unheeded, though they did draw a few neighbors to stare. When he turned to them to apologize for the scene and his unrespectable attire he felt his head swim, and when he next opened his eyes he found himself lying down in a hut, the same woman leaning above him and dabbing his forehead with a moist cloth. 

"Forgive a poor widow for her lack of hospitality," she whispered to him, "but I'll give you what I can, and I won't let you leave this place without dinner, a bath, and a decent kimono. Anything you ask of me is yours." 

He smiled. "This simple servant of Buddha thanks you." 

"Rest now, Houshi-sama. I'll have rice and fish ready for you soon." 

He closed his eyes and felt sleep wash over him. A nap on this side of the ground was pleasant indeed. ****

Author's Note: 

I'm a bit dissatisfied with some of these chapters, but I feel if I delay on them forever I might never get to the Sango parts I'm so interested in writing. Oh well. 

- Scribe 

Chapter posted 3 March 2003 


	4. Miroku's Journey: Part IV

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

**MIROKU'S JOURNEY: PART IV** _

_

"Leave the road and memorize   
This life that passed before my eyes   
Nothing is going my way"   
- REM, "Find the River" 

He rested only for an hour or so, only long enough for the lamps around the hut to require lighting. The scent of dinner woke him, and it felt to him like food was yet another thing he had forgotten. Though his own memory may be lost, that of his tongue was not. He was ravenous. 

She must have expected this, for the woman only gave him small portions of rice, tea, and fish at a time. Even though he knew he would be terribly sick if he ate everything at once, he probably wouldn't have been able to stop himself without her. 

"Forgive me, but could I know the name of my savior?" he asked. 

She blushed. "The woman who lives to serve you is Sukui." 

"Arigato, Sukui-sama." 

She brought both hands to her mouth to hide her smile. 

He ate an incredible deal of food, but it was spread out over hours so that his stomach gave no complaint. After putting away the dishes, Sukui took a lantern and a bundle of clothes and led him to the river where she fetched her water. 

He placed the clothes near the bank and waited for the bobbing light of the lamp to be far enough from him to be respectable. It was scandalous enough to be here bathing with an unmarried woman in shouting distance, but he hoped if she was far enough away it would appear coincidence that they might here at the same night. He cared little for his own privacy, but the honor of a woman was something he would not tarnish. 

Now that he could see the lamp no more he stripped off the tattered robe and apron. The latter he folded very, very carefully and set on a rock so that it would not touch soil. 

He bathed, scrubbing the dirt from his hair with sand from the beach, and when he looked up at the full moon he suddenly found himself very lonely. Sukui said he had friends that traveled with him and Sango. He wondered where they were and what they were doing. Were they thinking of him now? 

He wondered, was Sango staring at the same moon, yearning for him as he yearned for her? Did she cry for him when they buried him, or was she strong and silent? Was she a miko, soft and gentle, or was she a taiji-ya, strong and fit, the leader of their group? 

Did she have long, raven hair as he imagined? Were her eyes dark and brown like the ageless forests? Was her smile the sun of a thousand summers, and did she fit in his arms just so? 

He sighed wistfully. _I'll ask Sukui when I return to her hut. She saw all of them earlier. She will tell me what Sango looks like._

He walked back to shore, drying himself with the towel. He glanced through the clothes Sukui had, the clothes of her deceased husband. __

I'll make an offering to him tomorrow. A very heartfelt one, for being blessed with a wife so kind and honorable. 

He frowned. __

The least I can do for the dead man whose fundoshi I'm wearing. 

He finished the folds of the loincloth and pulled on the black kimono she had given him. It lacked the flared sleeves of his priestly robe, but it was long and wide, giving him the same freedom of movement. He could tell by the cut it was made to fit a larger man tightly. 

He felt a bit uncomfortable without an inner kimono, but clearly he was not going to ask her for anything after giving him so much. He picked up his purple cloth again, studying it. It was torn and dirty, but certainly wearable. He tied up his new kimono to his thighs and washed the cloth in the river. It would be fit to wear when it dried tomorrow. 

As he turned back to the clothing left on the beach, his eyes caught movement in the moonlight. A brief sense of panic ran through him. 

The feeling died quickly as he realized that what he had seen was Sukui's hair as she crept away from a hiding place in the bushes. __

She must have been watching me the entire time. 

He sighed. __

Well, there's not much I can do about that. She doesn't know I saw her, and there's no reason to say so. I'll keep it to myself; consider it payment for the clothes and food. 

The houshi squeezed the cloth dry and draped it over his shoulder. __

When I heard that noise, I very nearly grabbed my shakujou and prepared myself to fight. It felt like instinct, and if it were youkai I feel like I would have known how to defeat it. Maybe I am a youkai fighter. Perhaps a good one. 

He bundled up his damaged kimono and Sango's apron. The latter he held very tightly to his chest, fingers digging deep into the cloth, trying to suck out the last bits of Sango's essence in their folds, needing her desperately. __

I will take my leave in the morning. I will beg for money if I must, but I will continue on the road Sango has taken. Sukui said they were four days ahead of me; I'm sure with dedication I can catch up to them before the sun sets twice. 

Bless me with your patience, Buddha, for I have none until my Sango is returned to me! ****

Author's Note: 

Sukui is Japanese for "help" or "savior." 

- Scribe 

Chapter posted 3 March 2003 


	5. Miroku's Journey: Part V

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

MIROKU'S JOURNEY: PART V   


_  
"I wonder how I look inside your mind.   
Tell me, have I scored with your panel of judges tonight?   
Can you see me? Do you hear what I say to you?   
When I look inside you I see something about myself,   
Something I never knew."   
- Caroline's Spine, "Inside Your Mind"_

His dreams were odd, involving fights with strange youkai. His friends were there, and he knew they included hanyou and kitsune. Sango was there, and in his dreams she did have dark hair, and was dressed all in scandalous, form-fitting black. But their faces blurred whenever he looked at them, and when he in desperation grabbed at Sango's wrist to bring her close to him, hoping if she was close enough he could focus and see her face, she brought up a hand and slapped him quite hard. 

He awoke. 

Blinking, the houshi looked around the hut. There was only one room, but a hanging cloth split the hut in two to protect Sukui's decency while they slept on futons. 

With a gasp he recognized the form kneeling above him. 

Sukui was there in a kimono so thin and light that she might as well have been naked. Moonlight streamed through it from the window and highlighted the curves of her ample chest. Seeing him awake, she brought a hand to his face. 

"Houshi-sama," she whispered. 

"Sukui-sama," he gasped. "What are you doing?" 

She smiled shyly, leaning over him. Though he didn't mean to see it, the spit in her kimono revealed flesh between neck and navel and made it clear she was otherwise quite naked. 

"My husband Noriko died in a farming accident a year ago, and I haven't had the company of another man since. He looked a lot like you, you know. Shorter, wider, but the same face." Her thumb rubbed against his lips. "Same beautiful, boyish face." 

When her hand began to trace the folds of his kimono he caught it firmly. His expression of anger startled her, as did the other hand that grabbed her shoulder and pushed her away. 

He scooted across the floor, sitting opposite her with his hands hanging loosely over his knees. 

"Houshi-sama," she whispered, more desperate than before. 

"And yet that name means nothing to you," he muttered. He saw her tremble before him, as if near tears, and immediately made his tone softer. 

"I am a servant of Buddha, and as such I must seek peace and prolong the happiness of those around me." 

She clasped her hands, her eyes hopeful. 

"_But_," he said, afraid he couldn't stress the word enough, "I must at the same time avoid petty desire, most hurtful desire, for failing to do so leads to great suffering." 

"Houshi-sama," she begged. 

He sighed. 

"I guess I don't know where that came from. I don't understand half of what I just said, really." 

Again, the hopeful look. 

"The reason I can't do this is because I am already married. I care not for any other woman." 

He leaned toward her, taking her hand, his eyes seeing only her face. 

"No matter how beautiful, how wonderful, how perfect you may be, you are not my Sango," he whispered. "I can't do her wrong, Sukui-sama. I'm not even able to." 

"But," she whispered, "but you asked me already. Why change your mind now?" 

"Nani?" 

"The first thing you said to me," she whispered. "I saw you approach the village. You asked me then, but I said no, because you were with that woman at the time." She pressed her fists to the floor in exasperation. "I'm here now; she's not. I can do it, Houshi-sama." 

His eyes narrowed. "What did I ask you then?" 

"To bear your child, Houshi-sama!" 

His eyes widened. Suddenly he was laughing. 

"Houshi-sama?" 

He shook his head. "I'll give you credit, Sukui-sama, for being such a trickster. But I assure you even without memory of that day I'm sure I couldn't have said such a thing." 

She seemed about to argue, but a glare from him was enough to quiet her. She nodded cautiously, wrapping her kimono around her, escaping to the opposite side of the partition. __

I will leave in the morning before she awakes. It would be best that way. I will leave this place and go north. Sukui told me they were traveling in that direction. I will go north and search for my companions in every town I pass. 

I will find her. I must. I will travel hard, I will outrun my own shadow. I will not rest. I will not sleep again unless my Sango is beside me. 

He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he saw her. He was mildly afraid he wouldn't recognize her, that he might pass her somewhere and never see her again. He was afraid she would see him and think him a ghost, a zombie, and in her haste slay him with the huge weapon Sukui mentioned in the conversation they held while they walked back from the river earlier that evening. __

"Sukui-sama, could you tell me if you know anything about my friends?" 

"What do you want to know, Houshi-sama?" 

"Their names." 

She clasped her hands together. 

"Well, there was the hanyou, Inuyasha. Kowai! Silver hair, dog ears on the top of his head. And there was the girl that seemed to be married to him. Strange green kimono. Never seen clothes like that. And there was a kitsune – he kept bugging the hanyou, like he wasn't afraid of him at all. Anyway, there was the peasant girl with a huge . . . gomen, Houshi-sama, I don't know what it was, but she carried it on her back. A weapon, maybe. She was wearing that apron you had. The way you two carried on, I guess I shouldn't be surprised you're together." 

"Are you sure you don't remember any other names?" 

"Gomen, Inuyasha was the only one I remember. The girl with the weird clothes must have yelled it a thousand times while I was watching them." 

"Not even mine?" 

"Gomen, Houshi-sama." 

Morning came very slowly, as it always does for young houshi who do not sleep. He could not rest well for fear of Sukui returning to him. Nor could he ignore the pang in his heart with every light, muffled sob he heard from the young woman across the hut. __

It is best this way. 

Chapter posted 27 April 2003 


	6. First Interlude: Asesu

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

INTERLUDE I _

  
  
"And on the pedestal these words appear:   
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:   
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'"   
-Percy Bysshe Shelly, "Ozymandius"

_

Many creatures that were not quite animals and not quite men made homes in this province and others. Most feared were oni, mononoke, kappa, tengu, yamanba, and all other manners of bakemono – terrible creatures filled with evil spirits. 

But an evil sprit that did not exist as a creature? Such things were not of this land, though there were other lands, and boats to carry their demons here. Evil sprits lived long lives, and sprits that lived only in the bodies of others could easily survive in the bodies of unsuspecting creatures in Japan. 

Legend tells of a spirit, a creature created by the god of another land. This creature became jealous and rebelled against its god. It was punished: not with destruction, but with the elimination of its physical form and power. The spirit could only exist by surviving inside the bodies of men, seeing through their eyes, and so this spirit's punishment endured for a thousand years – cursed with existence, forced to see and experience the lives of men, to become them; forced to live as a dream, nothing more than a forgotten memory in the minds of the men it possessed; forced to live inside a man, to pray to the god it so hated, to feel the pain of death, and to rush with mindless fear to the next miserable human. 

This creature was doomed never to regain its original powers or its immortal body – such things were lost forever. But gradually this creature began to collect its memories, and the memories of what it was before its curse became something it could keep as it traversed bodies. It remembered its name, Asesu, and kept it as its navigated mortal lives. As this existence became a sustained consciousness, it added to itself the memories and intelligence. 

It was inevitable that this creature, this Asesu, a scavenger of the minds it sustained itself in, would gain power through that knowledge. After a thousand years, Asesu could travel at will from one mind to another. After another thousand years, Asesu developed a voice with which it could speak to the men it made its host. Its skills at persuading and controlling its hosts sharpened, for it had ten times a thousand years to learn. There are few accounts of Asesu taking Japenese men, but it surely happened, and by the time Asesu came to this land he was so strong there were few that would not succumb immediately to his command. 

But long ago, all such accounts ceased. Few priests or monks knew of Asesu; far fewer would speak of it; fewer still studied its movements. But those who did noted the erratic behavior of other bakemono at the time and came to their own conclusion: 

Asesu was very much alive, but had ceased stealing the lives of humans, for Asesu had learned to control youkai. 

So Asesu lived in Japan for half a thousand years. He entered youkai, controlled them, and did as he pleased. When stronger youkai came, Asesu would fight them and then live in the victor. 

Asesu thus no longer was a concern of men, for surely he would no longer possess men when it could possess youkai. Having no body of its own to anchor it to this world, Asesu was quite vulnerable to exorcism; by living in youkai he could avoid men and their houriki. 

Or so the legend goes. ****

Author's note: 

Yes, "Asesu" is an actual Japanese word. It's my best guess of how to convert _Azazel_, the villain in the movie _Fallen_, to katakana. "Azezu" doesn't sound as good to me, and I don't know what it means, if anything. 

- Scribe 

Chapter posted 27 April 2003 


	7. Sango's Sorrow: Part I

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

SANGO'S SORROW: PART I __

"I can see me loving nobody but you   
For all my life.   
When you're with me, baby, the skies will be blue   
For all my life."   
- The Turtles, "Happy Together"

She smiled as she saw the expanse of homes before her, for they were nearing the first village in several days. Yet another night of sleeping on the cold, hard ground was avoided. Though she appreciated the sleeping bag that Kagome had supplied her, and though, as a taiji-ya, she was well-suited for uncomfortable encampments in dark and dreary places, this was not the same as saying she enjoyed them. A good bath and good meal – or perhaps more than one – were the few benefits of their journey, and the absence of such simple pleasures as they traveled made them so much sweeter. 

She turned to her friends. There was Kagome, the young girl who had all too quickly become her best friend. They had nothing in common – she was from another world, another time. She was cheerful and bright at times, sad at others, and often, usually due to Inuyasha, she became quite angry indeed. 

Well, perhaps they had a few things in common. 

Sango wished she had the freedom in her heart to bare her deeper emotions, to let people know how she felt. These were her friends, and she had no need to hide herself, to be so withdrawn all the time, to keep silent the sadness and fear and rage that seemed to drive her on this journey. She had cried on Kagome's lap not long after meeting her, shedding the first tears for her brother, her father, her village, everyone she had ever known or cared for over her entire life. It hurt to release those feelings, to have her rescuers, the people she betrayed to Naraku for the life of her brother. Even then she knew Naraku was lying, knew there was no chance he would release Kohaku, but she could not resist the temptation to try. Naraku controlled his body, perhaps even his soul, and with that he could control Sango's heart. 

The tears shed for her loved ones on Kagome's kimono were bitter with the frustration, with the anger, and with the pain of knowing that she too had been controlled by Naraku, first through the Shikon shard so that she would be made to kill Inuyaysa, then by her brother's life so that she would steal Inuyasha's precious sword, Tetsusaiga. 

She was a fool, a complete fool, for allowing herself to be led this way. She had nearly taken the life of innocents, nearly handed them to Naraku. And yet they rescued her from the trap she willingly marched into. Though she never apologized to them, though she told them outright that she would probably betray them again, they welcomed her back with open arms. Despite her attempts to kill them, despite her violation of their trust, they made her one of them, treated her as an equal, with compassion, and never, ever burdened her by so much as speaking of the pains she had caused them. 

She had found friendship in these people. She, a young taiji-ya, a female one at that, had found a place among equals. There was love there, or something like it. But, though she could trust them with her life she still found it difficult to trust them with her feelings, and even in chattering, somewhat girly moments with Kagome – moments she thought she might have grown out of after the tragedies she had barely survived, moments where she remembered for a time that she really was a woman – her heart remained guarded. 

Still, friendship didn't come anywhere near describing the bonds between them. They argued, they fought, they got mad, but they were always, always there for each other. They were like family. 

Perhaps they _were_ a family. 

She turned from the girl to her right, now looking to the robed figure on her left. Miroku, the corrupted houshi. 

She smiled lightly. There was something strong between her and Miroku, though she couldn't quite define it. He lost his family to Naraku as she had. He fought with grace and strength, as she did. He carried a curse given to him by Naraku, limiting his time here on this world so long as Naraku lived. Similarly, Naraku's hold of her brother made her desperate to destroy the creature. 

But Miroku was strong, so much stronger than she. She watched him fight, always. He seemed to fear nothing. He boldly marched into inevitable death, as she did, but never did he show fear and always did he succeed. 

There was one exception: the oni's head that disguised itself as a princess, that captured Miroku in her cave with her powerful jaki. Sango had tried to rescue him, became captured as well, and through some luck Miroku was barely able to save both their lives. __

He told me he thought he was going to die. It was the first time I had honestly seen him scared for his own life. To be immobilized, to be rendered helpless in the face of danger, this must be close to his greatest fears. So long as he was able to act, even against a far superior foe, I think he might never despair. 

I never told him so, but seeing tremble in fear after scaring off the demon scared me too. And yet, in some primal way, I enjoyed seeing his fear. Seeing his feelings bare, naked, sort of excited me. 

He too was quiet, was contemplative, was alone. More alone than all of them, she thought, for while she could chatter and gossip with Kagome whenever she felt the need to, Miroku could find no such solace in Inuyasha. Perhaps his training as a monk prepared him for such a life. Perhaps his curse made it difficult for him to reach out to others anyway. Perhaps he already considered himself as dead, living only on borrowed time. 

She longed for him sometimes, wanting to hug him, to reassure him. Even when he smiled he seemed sad. She sometimes thought of embracing him, of kissing him, of finding a home for herself in his arms. 

But such things could never be, for he was still a lecher, and though she didn't doubt the sincerity of the kind words he often spoke to her, she could not give her heart to a man that would not be hers alone. 

He turned to her, noticing her stare. She fought down a blush as his eyes, round and questioning and full of kindness, seemed to envelop her. 

"Ano. . . Houshi-sama," she blurted out. "It looks like we're going to be sleeping in warm beds, tonight. That is, if you're going to run your honorable youkai exorcist routine." 

It took her a while to recognize his manner of speaking, to truly know him, and she could tell when the sincerity drained from his voice, though few others could. 

He feigned hurt. 

"Sango, I assure you I would never use my abilities as a houshi for personal gains. Such a thing would be unthinkable." 

Sango rolled her eyes and thus did not see him move to grasp her hand between his own. 

"But Sango," he stated gruffly, "know this: If at any time your bed is too cold for you, say the word, and there will be no end to my efforts to warm you." 

Her hand was swift as always, and he did not move from where he stood, rubbing his marked face cautiously. His smile spoke to her, _it was worth it_, as she turned and followed the others. 

"Baka," muttered Shippou from his perch on Kagome's shoulder. 

Sango's face was taut with anger, but only on the surface. __

At least he didn't grab my ass this time. Though I'm sure he will when he gets a chance. 

She sighed. __

Maybe he only said that to annoy me, because I insulted him. Kagome told me the way he used to be before. He doesn't cheat or steal anymore. He doesn't seem to flirt with other women nearly as much these days. 

And there was the incident with Hachi, his tanuki retainer that impersonated him and destroyed his reputation in all those villages. None of us believed his claims of innocence. We abandoned him. We were close to letting those villagers kill him for the crimes of his imposter. He seemed to take it in stride, to joke about it afterwards. But if it had been me, if everyone had turned against me like that, it would have broken me. I would have cried, I would have run from these people. I might even have killed myself to ease the pain of such abandonment. 

How dare I be bothered by a few wayward gropes and innuendos after showing him such cruelty? 

She shook her head. She would apologize later. She always planned to tell him later, to explain her feelings, to expose her heart to him, to let him take her or leave her. So many thoughts led to these intentions, and rarely if ever did she have the courage to see them to their end. So many times had moments between them come up, moments where she felt she could tell him everything, break into his heart, and make Mirkou hers. But she always, always hesitated, and then he did something perverted, and in her anger she forgot the kind things he had done. 

So the cycle repeated. __

I'll tell him tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow I will find him out, take the chance, and perhaps then he will love me. Always tomorrow, never today. 

Our journey is long. I have all the time in the world. 

She nearly bumped into Inuyasha, who had stopped short before her. 

"Oi, Miroku, you feel that?" the hanyou said. 

Miroku nodded. "I've felt a very faint yoki for a little while now. I can't tell from where, but it's pretty far. Seems like a tora youkai." 

"Bouzu no baka," Inuyasha muttered. "You can't smell it at all, can you?" 

"Houshi," said Miroku. 

"There's blood and youki all over this damn village. That tora ripped right through here four days ago and killed at least a half-score of humans." 

Miroku's voice became as steel. "Then we will destroy it." 

"I've fought tora youkai before," said Sango. "They tend to feed of small villages, usually once or twice a week. Our best chance of finding it would be to stay at the village and wait for it to attack. If we go out in search of it, there's too great a chance for it to pass us by or escape and take more lives." 

"A wise course of action," said Miroku. "Perhaps we can get ourselves room and board for a night, in exchange for its extermination." The same thought was on everyone's mind, since they had done this so many times before, but it helped to have it stated aloud. It satiated Kagome, who knew their reward was nearly nothing compared to the effort and danger of killing youkai; and it satiated Inuyasha, who could pretend they were hired hunters fighting only for reward. 

"Keh," Inuyasha muttered. "This better be quick. We're in a race with Naraku, so don't forget." 

Miroku poked him lightly in the back with his shakujou. "And let's not forget those of us without demon blood need a lot more rest than you." 

"Of course," Inuyasha replied. 

Sango smiled wickedly. Thought of battle invigorated her. __

I've been too concerned with Houshi-sama lately. A good battle will clear my senses, give me some exercise, and help me focus on what's important. 

The first person they saw was a young woman tending a small garden before her hut. Miroku greeted her, asked for the home of the village chief, and kindly requested if she would bear his child. 

Sango growled. As soon as he walked back to them she struck him atop the head with Hiraikotsu. ****

Author's note: 

Well, I figure a week shy of two months is about as long as is fair to leave my readers waiting, so here's the next installment. This, indeed, was the chapter I wanted so badly to post that I rushed through a couple chapters. I think the past three, however, seem better for their benefit of revision. 

About a week ago, I managed to put together an anime music video starring Sango and Miroku to the tune of Tom Petty's "You Wreck Me." I think it's very good for my first try – in fact, if you forgive my arrogance, I think it's one of the best Inuyasha videos I've seen. And, given lack of competition, I can absolutely assure you it is the best Sango and Miroku AMV you will see. 

Unfortunately, my free hosting site can't handle the bandwidth, so it's going offline all the time, and to my best guess only a handful of people can download the thing per day. The only solution I can think of is to Email people who ask the URL. Sorry I can't do more, but I don't have the cash to pay for bandwidth. If you find it, I hope you like it. 

- Scribe 

Chapter posted 27 April 2003 


	8. Sango's Sorrow: Part II

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

SANGO'S SORROW: PART II _

_

"And the sign said,   
'Long-haired freaky people   
Need not apply.'"   
-Five Man Electrical Band, "Signs Signs Everywhere a Sign"   
  


The group of youkai hunters – Inuyasha, Kagome, Miroku, Sango, Kirara, and Shippou – kneeled politely in the ancestral hall of the small village. The village chief was before them, eyeing them suspiciously. 

Why wouldn't he? Their group consisted of a hanyou, two youkai, a simple village girl, and another girl whose revealing dress could easily cause her to be mistaken for a lady of the evening. It's quite good that in all their travels no one had ever made such a mistake, for the proper insult would surely lead Inuyasha to rip them to shreds. 

Perhaps Sango could have had authority if she had worn her taiji-ya outfit, but in villages such as these the fact she was a girl made it too easy for village chiefs to doubt her skill. In her old village it was her father that spoke for her, for rare were men of power willing to make contracts with her or even listen to her. It bothered her, but it was something she could deal with. She could easily challenge the men that doubted her to combat, and she would probably prove herself that way if she were living on her own, but so long as she had these men to speak to her she would rather prove herself on the battlefield. 

Even were she a man she would not mind deferring speech to a comrade-in-arms. Though a village chief's daughter, taught a firm but polite way of speaking, and though she thought herself both quick and clever, she was not very good with words. And all too often could someone enrage her – Miroku was best at that – and she would find a ferocity of speech that would quickly end any conversation she was trying to entertain. 

Besides, Miroku was the only person in their group whose appearance made sense here. Perhaps that was the reason they let him talk most of the time, even though it took the chance of letting his lecherous behavior come out. There were no girls here, luckily, so Sango wasn't worried. 

Sango was startled from her thoughts as the village chief suddenly and loudly began speaking to them. She hoped that she had not flinched or otherwise made a sign of weakness – her father, though always a gentle and forgiving man to her, would have been very disappointed in her losing face to someone already doubting her abilities. 

"You want to defeat this youkai," the village elder said. "And yet I see before me three more youkai. It seems to me the best option available would be for me to throw you out. Better to deal with a single youkai then all of you." 

Miroku put up his hand defensively. "Now, don't worry about that. These youkai have renounced their human-hating ways. You may be surprised, but in these times they and humans can live together and fight alongside each other." 

He turned, gesturing to Inuyasha, Shippou, and Kirara. The absurdity of anyone fearing either the young kitsune or the kitten-sized Kirara on sight would have been more than enough for Sango to scoff, even laugh at the both arrogant and cowardly chief, and she tightened her fists ever so slightly on her lap as she reminded herself that such thoughts were the very reason Miroku spoke for them among strange or difficult audiences. 

Then again, perhaps the village chief was more clever than he appeared – could he somehow have known that Kirara was a transforming fire-youkai, and on her mistress's need would transform to a saber-toothed firecat the size of a tiger, mauling and destroying anything that might try to harm Sango or her friends? Could he have known how clever Shippou could be, and how his illusionary magic, though that of a child, was often enough to harm or seal men and youkai far stronger than himself? So far as she heard from Kagome, even Inuyasha was powerless against the tricks he cast when they first met. 

Sango's eyes flicked from Kirara's endlessly curious expression to Shippou's mildly annoyed gaze, then back to the village chief, sitting with his arms crossed and his jaw set. 

_I sincerely doubt it_, Sango thought, resisting a smirk. 

Miroku continued. "Those three have been our traveling companions for months now, and have proved their friendship and loyalty to us again and again." He turned back to the elder. "I know you haven't traveled the same roads as I have. But if you cannot trust them, I would hope you at least trust me, a servant of Buddha, and let us help you." 

He seemed to weigh these words. 

"Very well. We'll keep you here for the night if you please, and pay you what is fair. But those youkai must stay outside the village. I can't allow them to stay in this place any longer." 

"Teme," Inuyasha muttered under his breath. 

Miroku nodded – assumedly at the village chief, who hopefully did not hear Inuyasha – and stood as the village chief got to his feet. The others followed suit. 

"That won't be necessary," he said cheerfully. "We'll leave this village immediately to make preparations for the extermination. We'll claim our reward afterward, once the tora youkai is defeated." 

As they left the village, Sango realized that nobody wished them good luck. 

Chapter posted June 13 2003 


	9. Sango's Sorrow: Part III

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

SANGO'S SORROW: PART III 

__

"konna toki ni umaretsuita yo   
da kedo nan to ka susundet'te   
da kara nan to ka koko ni tatte   
bokura wa kyou o okutte'ru" 

[We've arrived in these times.   
But somehow things move on   
So somehow we're standing here   
and we're living through today.]   
-Ayumi Hamasaki, "Evolution" 

They camped in the woods only a few kilometers from the edge of the village. Inuyasha was still sulking about the treatment he received there, though in the quiet, machismo manner Sango tended to expect from him. __

He's only recently befriended humans. Being treated unfairly by them again probably brought up the terrors Kagome told me about. The suffering he felt from the villagers he lived with as a child, those that never accepted him, she thought. 

She turned to Miroku, who was tending the fire. 

_He was angry there in the village. He hid it well, but hearing his friends spoken of so poorly really bothered him. He's accepted them just as I have. He treats Inuyasha like a brother, and sometimes I can't help but think he regards Shippou like a nephew._

That thought ended abruptly as she sensed a powerful youki coming close. It was not yet dusk. 

"He's fast," remarked Miroku, getting to his feet. Inuyasha drew his sword. 

"Over there!" Sango shouted, brandishing Hiraikotsu. 

The tiger youkai tore though the trees, landing just before them. The creature was easily ten times taller than a man, with orange and red fur striping along the length of its body. Its claws tore into the ground, and its tail waved back and forth like a club. Its red eyes burned bright, and the saliva dripping from its maw glistened in the orange glow of the setting sun. 

It roared, revealing its massive fangs, and went straight for Inuyasha. 

The hanyou dodged easily. Striking at its claws with Tetsusiaga, Inuyasha kept it from advancing, protecting Shippou and Kagome's position far behind him. 

Sango threw her weapon. 

"Hiraikotsu!" 

The tora dodged, but failed to see the weapon on its return trip. The boomerang slashed deep along its back before returning to the taiji-ya's hand. 

The wound was not fatal, but stunned it enough for Inuyasha to release a Kaze no Kizu directly toward the monster. 

The creature dodged again, and though a wave of the Kaze no Kizu tore at its side, it did not die. Being injured seemed to fill it with desperation, allow it to tap into deeper resources of strength, and all present realized the youkai was suddenly moving much faster than before. 

The tora passed Inuyasha and advanced on Kagome, dodging the purifying arrow she shot at him. But before it could reach her, Shippou blinded it with kitsune-bi. The momentary distraction allowed Inuyasha to reach her, wrap an arm around her waist, and pull her and the kitsune clutching her shirt to safety, all less than a second before the ground they were standing was scored with three parallel clawmarks. 

Sango threw Hiraikotsu again, but at the last moment the youkai turned and swatted it away with a single claw. Seeing her unarmed, it ran toward her. She drew her short sword, but there was no chance she could block the creature's advances with it – the thing's paws were each as wide as her outspread arms, each protruding claw was half her height in length, and surely it had enough strength behind them to shatter her blade. 

Out of the corner of one eye she saw it swipe at her, but before the blow landed an o-fuda struck the creature in the face, stunning it. The delay was just long enough for Kirara to rescue her mistress and carry her to the spot where Hiraikotsu was half-buried in the ground. 

Miroku smiled, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Sango was safe, then dodged the swing of the creature's other claw. He seemed to enjoy himself, avoiding the swipe of claws by mere inches by jumping side to side, keeping its attention just long enough for Kagome to strike it in the flank with another purity arrow. The beast cried out, and finally its movements became sluggish with fatigue and injury. 

"Kagome-sama!" Miroku shouted. "Can you sense any Shikon shards?" 

He likely already knew the answer, as the youkai was nowhere near strong enough to be carrying them. When she confirmed his suspicion, he quickly unfastened the rosary at his wrist. 

"Kazaana!" 

The youkai was pulled into oblivion. 

"Yatta!" said Shippou. 

Miroku looked around curiously, the beads only loosely wrapped around his wrist, as if ready to open the Kazaana for another attack. 

"Is something wrong, Houshi-sama?" Sango asked, worriedly. From her mount on Kirara's back, she held her weapon ready to throw at an instant's notice. 

"I – I'm not sure. I had a sense of foreboding just before the youkai appeared, and yet . . . it hasn't dissipated." He waited a moment, brows furrowed, then sealed the Kazaana completely. 

"I strongly suggest we stay here, and post a watch. I have the feeling this isn't over." 

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "Where else would we go, bouzu? It's too late to travel now, and I sure as hell ain't going back to that village." 

"Of course, of course," said Miroku. "Let's just be wary." 

**Author's Note:**

Admittedly, Ayumi Hamasaki's music is of the genre that does not stand well on its lyrics alone, especially after translation to English, but if you're familiar with the song you might agree that it makes for decent anime-style fight music. 

Chapter posted 13 June 2003 


	10. Sango's Sorrow: Part IV

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

SANGO'S SORROW: PART IV 

__

"The last that ever she saw him   
Carried away by a moonlight shadow   
He passed on worried and warning   
Carried away by a moonlight shadow."   
-Missing Heart, "Moonlight Shadow (New Vocal Version)" 

_I'll tell him tomorrow. The sun will be up soon, and I'll tell him then._

Sango sighed, realizing with a start she had been staring at Miroku for the better part of her watch. 

"Taiji-ya no baka," she muttered. "I'm barely paying attention at all. No wonder he and Inuyasha post watch most of the time." 

She yawned. Hers was the last watch – she had relieved Miroku only an hour before, and her best guess was that the first light of dawn was not more than a few minutes away, despite the fact that her watch should have started at least three hours before first light. __

Houshi-sama was supposed to wake me two hours earlier. Does he think I don't realize he's been letting me sleep so late? 

A cold breeze ran through her hair, a teasing wind that scattered her bangs across her forehead and childishly swung her high ponytail. It was an unnatural wind, followed by a deep sense of apprehension. Her senses immediately alerted, she slowly reached for the hilt of her short sword. 

Icy, invisible fingers clawed at her, cutting through the leather and youkai-hide of her taiji-ya uniform, cutting through her skin, and suddenly she felt something deep inside her, violating her, controlling her, making her body its own. 

The sensation itself was enough for her to freeze completely in a mixture of fear and revulsion. Every muscle in her body tensed. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach became intense. The embarrassment and disgust she felt when Miroku's hands were upon her could did not compare to this, could never compare to this. Her very spirit was being raped, her body seized by some sinister ghost, and so quickly did the fear run like icy fingers up and down her body __

What's happening to me? 

She couldn't speak, couldn't call for help. The hand that was reaching for her wakizashi froze in midair. She could sense it now, a consciousness inside her, a voice in her mind that was quickly seizing control of her mental faculties. __

So this is how Kohaku feels . . . 

Her mind become foggy as the second voice became stronger, and its memories began to flood into her. **__**

I want the inu-hanyou. But he is too powerful for me. If I took him now, he would call out to the houshi and I would be exorcised. But the taiji-ya is physically strong and mentally weak, and the neko-youkai would not hurt her. So I will take her quickly, kill the houshi, the neko-youkai, the kitsune, and the miko. The inu-hanyou will avenge the miko without thought, and with him alone it will take very little time to take over his body. Then I will own him, a creature a thousand times stronger than that worthless tora-youkai. I will be invincible then. 

To thank the inu-hanyou, I think my first act will be to destroy that village he hates with a single swing of that beautiful sword. 

It's a ghost, thought Sango. _It's the ghost that controlled the tora youkai, the presence that Houshi-sama felt after the youkai was destroyed._

Sango did not believe she could feel more appalled, more angry than she already did; nevertheless she reached a new level of disgust and hatred when the thing addressed her. **__**

Hai. I've become quite good at controlling youkai and humans, but as you can see it takes time for me to kill the mind of the thing I inhabit. I'd appreciate you being silent while I – I should say 'we' – kill your companions. 

Sango steeled herself, found the inner strength necessary to speak to this creature that was invading her, and spoke to it in her mind. __

Get out. 

The creature seemed to laugh. **__**

I am Asesu, the thief of lives, the puppet-master of both humans and youkai. Your body is merely the last of tens of thousands I have taken and destroyed for my own purposes. You will not resist me. __

You are weak, she countered. _You steal the strength of others. You are nothing. ****_

Sleep now, Sango. Give yourself to me. It will hurt so much if you keep resisting. 

You are nothing! Sango shouted. _Worthless, useless parasite!_

Against her will, Sango's arm drew the wakizashi, holding it horizontally before her, as if prepared to impale herself upon it. **__**

I don't have time for your banter, taiji-ya. But I have plenty of time to cut you up, if only for my own amusement. Your pain doesn't bother me. Would you like to be silent, or should I simply skin you until you pass out from the pain? Either way I'll control you fully. 

K'so . . . ****

What will it be, Sango? 

I need to stall. I need to delay him. If I can wake the others . . . Ah! 

With a flick of the wrist, Sango's sword struck her left forearm. Her gauntlet saved her from losing her arm, but the wakizashi cut partly through the material, drawing blood. **__**

I'm in your mind, teme. You can't hide your thoughts from me. 

She gritted her teeth. Or tried. She wasn't certain of her movements, could only lightly feel her arms and legs. Her vision too was dulled, and she could see only where the ghost pointed her own eyes. 

She had her hearing, though. There was a rustle of clothing behind her. 

"Sango?" __

Houshi-sama! ****

Houshi-sama. 

She tried to speak, but still had no control. She felt herself being pulled deeper into her own mind, far from the controls of her own body. 

Miroku kneeled beside her. 

"Sango! Your arm!" 

"Something startled me," she said. "My hand slipped." __

Not my voice not my voice that's not me! Houshi-sama, please, use your o-fuda! 

Miroku took a white cloth from a pocket of his robe and wrapped it around her arm. 

"You're tired," he said. "Get some sleep. I'll finish the watch. The sun will be up soon, anyway." 

Miroku finished the knot on the makeshift bandage and put a hand casually on her shoulder. 

"Go now." 

Suddenly his hand gripped her tight. His eyes widened. Clearly, there was something in her face, something he could only see when she turned slightly to the hand on her shoulder and the left side of her face caught the last traces of the campfire. Sango thought of the soulless eyes of her brother Kohaku. __

He knows. ****

He knows. 

The blade of her wakizashi flashed bright in the starlight. The grip on her shoulder weakened. Blood dripped on Sango's thigh. 

"How stupid . . . of me," Miroku muttered. His free hand reached into his robe, in the secret fold only inches above the widening dark spot on his chest. An o-fuda was held in shaking fingers. 

"Houriki!" he shouted, a tight burst of breath from his pierced chest, as he pressed the paper to her forehead with his thumb. 

She had seen the crackle of energy emanate from his scrolls before, seen the writhing agony of their targets, but experiencing it firsthand was indescribable. A shocking, burning, stinging sensation drilled through her temples, down her body, across her chest, and even made its way to fingers and toes in short, repetitive lancelets of suffering. 

However, Miroku's spells were made to focus only on evil spirits, and Sango knew the injury dealt to her was only a fraction of what Asesu felt. The agonized and desperate screams of that spirit echoing through her mind brought to her a satisfaction that made her own ordeal quite bearable. 

She felt a terrible rushing sensation, as if all the breath in her body was being stolen out, and suddenly she felt herself in control – tired, weakened, dizzy, but in a body that was hers alone. 

Miroku fell forward on the grass, bracing himself with one hand, staining the ground with a steady dripping of bright red blood. 

"Houshi-sama," she whispered. His o-fuda fluttered to her lap, its power spent and its sacred inscriptions faded away. 

"Houshi-sama!" 

The others were awakened now. She could hear them move, shouting her name as she dropped her short sword and fell to her knees beside the houshi. 

She pressed her hands to the wound, but he pushed her away, violently, with his right hand. She fell backwards in a gasp of both surprise and hurt. __

He hates me. Kami-sama, I tried to kill him and he will never forgive me. 

That line of thought was immediately broken as she saw the shape before her. She had thought Miroku was staring forward blankly, but his eyes were focused on the same thing she could now see, lying on her back beside him. 

It was Asesu, in what was not quite corporeal form. The creature should have been invisible, but it instead hovered above them in a black cloud about the size of an ox, though of no shape she could possibly discern or describe. Tendrils of its edges moved this way and that, here and there faces with hollow eyes and hollow mouths pushed their way out of the bulk of the black mass for an instant, then pulled back as the surrounding tumorous non-flesh enveloped it. 

Miroku's spell had exorcised it, stunned it, and made it visible. 

Behind her she heard the familiar sound of Inuyasha unsheathing and transforming Tetsusaiga, and as she dug her fingers into the dirt to pull herself away from the beast that hovered above her, Inuyasha leaped above her and sliced it cleanly through. 

Inuyasha landed not far from them, striking the ground with one knee, and Sango could tell by the way the sword struck dirt that Inuyasha felt no resistance in his swing. 

Sango wasted no time getting to her feet, wrapping her arms below Miroku's arms, knocking him off his feet, and dragging him along the grass, pulling far away from the form that loomed above. 

Asesu swirled and recombined itself to its former shape. The faces seemed to stretch out farther, faster, and she could tell that this creature was dying – it could not live long outside a host, and the breath it took from her was rapidly growing stale in its smoke-like body. 

The faces began to turn to her, their hollow eyes pleading, their mouths twisted in hunger. It advanced, closing the distance quickly. 

She stood before Miroku, fully prepared to take the creature inside her again. 

"Inuyasha!" she shouted. "If I act strangely, attack me at once!" 

"What the hell are you talking about?" he shouted back, holding Tetsusaiga in a battle posture. 

"_Do it!_" 

He stared, mouth agape, and grunted affirmation. He clearly didn't understand just what she was going to do, but she would have to trust him to do the right thing if the ghost before them made her hurt her friends again. 

Asesu approached. Sango stood her ground, her hands balled in fists at her waist, her jaw set, her eyes staring down the enemy that approached her. She believed it was weak enough that she might be able to resist it this time, but that was hard to tell. Whatever the case, she knew Miroku would stand no chance against it, unconscious and injured behind her, and the only chance she had to save him would be to take in Asesu, fight it in her own mind, and hope that Inuyasha would stop her from hurting Miroku further. 

She did not expect to feel Miroku fall heavily against her back, to feel his arms wrap around her own and pin them to her sides, to feel his hands linked together just below her breasts, to feel his breath heavy and desperate in her ear and his blood warm against her back, or to have him turn her around violently such that Asesu struck him instead of her. __

He's lucky I'm still so weak, or I would have snapped Houshi-sama's arms for sneaking up on me like that, Sango thought, but then realization of just what Miroku planned dawned on her and her eyes widened in terror. This terror coupled with the sudden fear of falling as the heel of one boot caught on the shin guard of another, and suddenly she found herself splayed on the ground, missing a rock by mere centimeters that would surely have put out some teeth. Miroku lay above her, heavy and unmoving. 

Sango gasped out a breath, her head a pounding mess, a bruise flowering on the right side of her forehead, Miroku's grip on her slackening. She pulled her left hand free, violently pushed the houshi off her back, and kneeled above him. 

It was hard to decide what angered her more: that Miroku would tackle her like that, or that he would completely ignore her battle plan. 

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouted. 

He was grimacing , lying on his back, his hands clasped in what may have been prayer and his wound ignored. But he seemed to smile, a little, in the corners of his mouth. His eyes were dulled – not the blank stare of Kohaku, nor the piercing, dark blue gaze that she was so accustomed to receiving from him. They were the blue-grey of the sky just before a winter storm. 

"You would have stood no chance, Sango. He is . . . very strong." 

She reached forward, clasping her hands over his wound, blood seeping between her fingers. She shook her head. 

"I could've tried! Why would you do such a stupid thing?" 

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes, faded as the youkai inside him fought for control, but still his eyes, and his mind behind them, and she understood the sadness within them, the desperation, the words not spoken between them – "Because I care for you, Sango" – and her eyes stung with the threat of tears. 

"Houshi-sama . . ." 

Already, Kagome, Inuyasha, and Shippou came to investigate, encircling Miroku with worried expressions. Kirara approached and nuzzled her mistress's leg. 

"There's not much time," Miroku said. "I can hold this creature captive in my body, and I can fight it. I think I may be able to defeat it. You must be on your guard if I fail." His eyes shut tightly in another fit of pain. 

"On our guard?" Sango asked. "What do you mean? What are we going to do if you fail, and Asesu tries to hurt us?" Thoughts of a maddened Miroku attacking her, swinging his shakujou with ruthless efficiency, coursed through her mind. Sure, she could strike him when he misbehaved, but what would she choose if forced to decide between killing him and being killed by him? Could she strike him down and be able to live with herself? 

Miroku said nothing – already he was unconscious. Kagome leaned down and put two fingers on his neck and a hand before his mouth. 

"He's breathing," she said, "and his heart is still beating. We should find some better shelter. A cave or something." 

"Kirara and I can go look," said Shippou. "Alright, Sango?" 

She nodded. "Alright, Shippou." 

Kagome turned to get her medical supplies. Inuyasha sheathed his sword and began to pack up the camp. 

Sango looked behind her, to make sure their backs were turned to her, and leaned down to whisper in Miroku's ear: 

"Fight hard, Houshi-sama." ****

Author's note: 

The song in the epigraph of this chapter is perhaps one of my favorites. The lyrics are originally by Mike Oldfield. 

I'm going out on a limb on this story – I have a lot of scenes written about events much later in the story but the immediate events after this are still undetermined. Sometimes writing oneself into a corner leads to great creative discovery, and sometimes it leads to painfully strained plot twists. I'll let my readers judge the results for themselves when I update again. 

-Scribe 

Chapter posted June 13, 2003 


	11. Sango's Sorrow: Part V

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

SANGO'S SORROW: PART V 

__

"I can see it in your eyes.   
There is something   
Something you want to tell me.   
I see it in your eyes.   
There is something   
That you hide from me."   
- Lasgo, "Something" 

Miroku stood in a vast field of brilliant lavender flowers, his hands to his sides and his robes straight and motionless. The sky above him seemed too low, as if he could reach up and feel the barrier that separated this world from what lay beyond. 

In fact, he probably could. 

Clouds did not form above his head, but the white swirling void that moved rhythmically above this field like butter in a churn had at least passing resemblance to clouds. 

The field went on forever in all directions – should he run one way, the ground behind him would disappear as the ground before him came into existence. There were no hills, no trees, no rocks. Only him, the grass, and the flowers that littered the ground. 

He would not be alone for long. The Enemy will find his way here soon enough. 

He turned to his side, seeing movement in the corner of his eye. The wildflowers around him, though pleasing to the eye, were not there to serve that purpose. Each one was a node, a thought, a piece of him, and the pattern they wrought in this place was a manifestation of the order in his own mind. This entire world was a construct, a figurative battleground. Miroku created this place in his mind as a last refuge against enemies such as Asesu, a final line of defense between a mind-controlling spirit and the sanctity of Miroku's free will. 

The flowers began to move. He turned, watching the patterns they wove. As they bobbed in what seemed to be wind, Miroku could track Asesu's movements, could see which thoughts and memories Asesu was searching through. The creature was looking for a weakness, for a fear, anything that would allow him an edge. But those thoughts were deep, hidden in dark recesses not even a ghost as skilled as Asesu could see. 

A group of flowers began to bend outwards, in a circle about as wide as a man's outstretched arms, and a column of dust and dirt and grass began to rise from it. In a flash the whirlwind dissipated, revealing the form within. 

Miroku found himself staring at his mirror image. 

The imposter Miroku smiled. 

Miroku smiled back. 

Asesu, the imposter, looked nonchalantly at his own shakujou. "I'm not sure how you did this, Houshi-sama, but it's of no consequence. I've more experience in these matters than you can possibly conceive." 

"No houshi has ever challenged you this way, in meditation?" Miroku asked. "How depressing that you've run into such poorly-trained spiritual men." 

Asesu's eyes burned at him. "I didn't say _that_. I ran into a Shinto priest once who trapped me in meditation, as you have. Battled me in a game of chu shogi, if you can believe it. I won, of course, and destroyed his mind. Afterward, I murdered his children and raped his wife to death." 

Miroku made no response. He would not allow himself to be riled. 

"You have thus far annoyed me much more than that," said Asesu. "Would you like to know exactly what I have planned for your precious Sango?" 

"I have no doubt you're quite creative," Miroku replied flatly. 

"I will ruin her, inside and out. I will smash her face in, break her legs, and defile her with sharpened sticks and filth. She will beg me for death." 

Miroku clenched his teeth. If he lost control here, if he let his anger rule him, as it would rule Inuyasha in such a situation, all hope would be lost. He set up this stage on which he could fight Asesu, and thus both of them were constrained to the rules of combat. He required total concentration, or else Asesu could break free of his constraints, could adjust this world to his advantage and wipe Miroku's will away in an instant. 

He must not listen to Asesu's threats, else they would very likely be carried out. 

Quick as a flash Miroku threw an ofuda, striking his doppelganger in the chest. The sacred parchment did not have the power to exorcise him, as the parchment was as much a figment of Miroku's imagination as the grass, or the sky, or the figures of Miroku and Asesu themselves. But it was still a weapon, and once in contact with an evil heart it would hurt quite badly. 

Asesu roared in pain as purifying energy flew about him. He gripped the seal with his left hand and tore it free. The ofuda disappeared in blue fire. 

Miroku stretched out his hand and beckoned Asesu to come forward. 

Asesu came at him waving his shakujou above his head. 

Their battle had begun. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Sighing with impatience, Sango took the dry cloth from Miroku's forehead, wetted it with water from a bamboo flask, wrung it out, and replaced it. 

Shippou had done well in finding them this shelter, a rock-littered hill not fall from the road on which they had approached the village. There was a deep recess here protected by an outcropping of rock, and here they had laid Miroku over Kagome's blankets. They had taken turns watching him, and none had strayed far since they arrived, but Sango found it difficult to spend even a moment away from the houshi. Already the sun had risen and fallen since he had collapsed, and the fever he developed in the afternoon was becoming worse. 

She had hoped Miroku was well, that he was meditating, waging war – and winning – against Asesu. But the way his face contorted, the way his muscles tensed beneath the blankets she pulled over him when he shivered – she couldn't help but think he was living through nightmare after nightmare, that at the same time his body was wasting away due to the injuries he had sustained by her hand, and that sooner or later he would awake, and she would see the soulless eyes of her brother in Miroku's face, feel his hands on her throat, and she would be forced into deciding whether to kill him or die herself. 

She did not believe she had strength in her to raise a blade to Miroku. 

She leaned over him, pulling aside the blanket and the folds of his robe to check his injury. It was beginning to heal, but the bandages were red with the blood that continued to ooze from his wound. She would need to redress it soon. 

Her heart leapt up to her throat as she felt the all-too-familiar sensation of a hand expertly maneuvering beneath one of the armor plates of her taiji-ya uniform and caressing her comparatively unprotected bottom. 

She turned her head toward him, her eyes wide with surprise. Half-lidded eyes met hers, weary and pained but with a satisfaction that bordered on playfulness. 

She hit him, of course – she had to, didn't she? – but her blow was weak, fueled not by the anger of him groping her, but by the frustration and fear of having to watch him lie there and engage in a battle she could not assist, by the knowledge it was her blade that felled him and, unless his fever broke soon, may eventually kill him. 

"Sango," he whispered hoarsely, the corners of his mouth upturned. His hand slid away, touched the mark on his cheek. 

"Houshi-sama. Asesu is -?" 

"Weakened. He has hidden himself, preparing for his next attempt to control me." 

He coughed dryly. Sango uncorked a bamboo canteen and held it before him. He took it in one hand, let her place her arm behind his shoulder to sit him up, and drank deeply. 

"Arigotou," he said, handing the bottle back to her and lying down. He looked at the craggy rock overhanging them, and turned his head to the starry sky outside. 

"It's still dark," he remarked. 

"Only because you missed the sun entirely. You've been unconscious a full day and part of the night." 

He frowned at this. 

"I apologize. I didn't realize I was hindering our mission so badly." 

"We've been waylaid before. Besides, what else could you have done?" 

He said nothing. 

"Are you in pain, Houshi-sama? I can get Kagome's medicines if you want." 

"There's no need." 

He flexed his hand, the hand with the Kazaana, and she could tell he was thinking deeply. 

"Sango," he said. "If I wanted to tell you something, something very important, would you be willing to listen to it, to the very end?" 

"I suppose, Houshi-sama, that would depend on what exactly you meant to tell me." 

He smiled. "A wise answer, as always, from Sango-sama." 

He turned, looking away from her, to the stars. He waited a moment, took her silence as a gesture of affirmation, and began to speak slowly and thoughtfully. 

"It's always been just me, traveling alone. Well, myself and Hachi, but mostly me. I've always lived on borrowed time - Naraku killed me, killed every male in my line, but the houriki of our family keeps the Kazaana at bay, and like samurai, we are determined, and even with our heads cut off, we can exact revenge. Like vengeful ghosts we come at Naraku, and like ghosts we fade and become nothing when unsuccessful. 

"You have to understand this, Sango - gomen nasai, you don't _have_ to . . ." he paused, collecting his thoughts. "I was brought up as a monk so that I could have the power to control the Kazaana - without my houriki it would be unsealed and would have killed me as a child. It was my mission to do two things: first, to find a woman and make me a son, staying with her only long enough to ensure he was brought to a monastery and cared for when born, so he would be prepared if and when my curse passed to him. My only other purpose was to defeat Naraku. I held no illusions: with each generation the Kazaana becomes stronger, overwhelms a man's houriki faster, and consumes him sooner. Even without the injuries I've sustained to it through Naraku's damned bees and other minions, it is unlikely I would have ever lived beyond the age of twenty-five. 

"When one is young - I suppose I still am young, though thanks to my curse I feel I have far fewer years ahead of me than behind - one finds it very easy to drown his worries in drink and women. It requires less patience than meditation, in any case. When one has little time left to do a very serious thing, one becomes greedy and is willing to lie, and cheat, and steal, simply because he believes earning money would require too much time. This is how I became this sort of person. 

"I'm a bad houshi, Sango. I know this. You don't trust me very much, and I do not deserve to be trusted. But I've found myself changing lately. When I began to travel with Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippou - you may laugh at this, Sango, but they were the first real, true friends I've ever had. I began to behave myself, or tried at least, because I began to worry about how I appeared to them. 

"And then, then you came to us, Sango. You were unlike any girl I've ever met, and still are. And sometime in our travels - I know not when - I began to realize I worried less and less about the Kazaana. I still was aware of it, of the brief time I had left, but I began to find more comfort in your words, in being near you, than in all the tea-houses and brothels I've ever attended. So long I had viewed my curse with mute despair, or with quiet resilience. I did not consider my life worth much. Being with you gave me something to look forward to in the mornings, something to dream about at night, and while you make my life so much richer just by staying with us, you also make the pain I feel at knowing the brief time I have left so much sharper." 

Wordlessly, Sango reached forward and took Miroku's hands in her own. 

"Several times at night I've felt the pain in my hand, and worried that the seal would break while I was asleep or otherwise unaware, and claim all of us before I had chance to get myself a safe distance from you and the others. But each time I awake at night and wander, or think so seriously of running away fast enough that none of you could follow me, I think to myself: what if, by some bad luck, despite her amazing skill and cunning, Sango someday found herself in a situation where she was in mortal danger? 

"I want to be beside you then. When all but hope is lost, I will risk my life to save you, I will sacrifice it willingly, without hesitation or regret, and if I do not die then I will do the same thing again and again. 

"I'm a cheat and a lecher, and I can't change that, at least not as easily or as quickly as I'd like. In even my dreams I am unfit to be your husband, I fear at times I am too untrustworthy to be your friend, but though it is unfit for me to give my life to you and live together with you, I would give it to you as sacrifice, my blood to save yours. It's a cheap gift, as I have perhaps two or three years remaining anyway, but it's the most I can give you." 

He turned back to her – perhaps he would have found it impossible baring himself like that to her face – and saw the tears on her blushing cheeks. 

"H – Houshi-sama," she whispered. "I . . . I can't believe . . . that you feel this way." 

His hand slid free of hers, touched her cheek. His thumb brushed against her lips. 

"I think you do believe me, that you've known how I've felt about you for a long time. I think you know me better than I know myself." 

She smiled weakly. "You may be right, but I also fear that Houshi-sama would not tell me his true feelings, unless . . . unless he thought he were going to die." 

Miroku's jaw hung open, ready to argue, but he closed his mouth. 

"I'm sorry," he said. 

"Houshi-sama. . ." 

"I want you to bind my hands and feet. If I lose, it will give you some time to stop him." 

He heard her voice waver with the tears she tried to hide from him. 

"Houshi-sama, please don't die." 

"You need to promise, Sango. Promise me you won't hesitate. If Asesu defeats me, I can still hold him captive, for a few moments. Cut me down then, immediately, and I will carry him with me to hell. You and the others will be safe as long as – " 

He was silenced with her lips, her hands on his face, her fingers lacing themselves into his hair. 

"Sango," he murmured against her mouth. He reached upwards, rested his hands tentatively on her sides, until she grabbed one wrist and planted a hand firmly on her bottom. 

She leaned back, tears streaming down her face, the shoulders of his robes bunched up in her fists. 

"Please live for me. It was my fault you were hurt. My fault that you're sick now." 

"It makes no difference, Sango. I have my wits about me, and I need nothing else now. I will not die from your sword. Even if I did, it was not your hand that wielded it. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about." 

"There's still a chance," she prompted. "There's still a chance, isn't there? That you will survive, and be with us again?" 

He nodded. Asesu was strong, and though he was weakened and in retreat, Miroku knew his second onslaught on his mind would be far more effective. Miroku did not believe he stood much chance; in fact, his entire plan was more or less what he had told Sango: destroy Asesu's spirit along with his own. If possible, he would do so in meditation, and die in his sleep rather than by Sango's hesitant blade. 

Leaving his meditation to speak with her was dangerous enough, damn near foolhardy, for if Asesu returned from the depths of Miroku's mind while Miroku was conscious, the creature would be able to construct his own fight for dominance. Asesu had fought him to a stalemate in a construct of his own design; being forced into a challenge in which Asesu had written every rule against him would be suicide. But it was a risk Miroku was willing to take, for he believed it was the last chance he would ever have to see Sango. 

But, there was still a chance, wasn't there? 

"Hai," he added. "A chance." 

"Then," she said, "I'm tempted to give you incentive to come back to me." 

He smiled at this. 

"More incentive than this?" he asked, caressing her soft bottom. He couldn't quite believe that she had allowed him to touch her there, even given the circumstances. Nor could he believe he was so deep in thought for the past minute that he had pretty much let his hand lay there like a dead fish as they spoke. 

"Hai. More than that." 

"Sango, there is only one thing I would ask of you." 

"Anything." 

His hand trailed up her back, and as he pressed his palm behind her head he pulled her face down to his. Her eyes were wide, her breaths short and fast on his lips. 

"All I want, all I ever wanted from you, is to hear my name." 

She closed her eyes, and the tears dripped on his face. 

"Mi . . ." she sniffed, caught her breath. "Miro . . .ku." 

His lips searched out hers, hungrily, and he felt her shift position and lie down beside him. When he released her, she pressed her face to his chest and wrapped her arms around him, mindful not to disturb his wound. 

Miroku kept an arm around Sango's shoulders, telling himself that he would push her away in a minute and remind her to tie him up and keep her distance from him, but a minute became two, two became five, and the feeling of Sango's breath on his throat, her hands gripping his robes, her chest pressing rhythmically against his side, and the warm, soft weight of a sleeping young woman beside him was something that the fear of death held no providence over. 

He dully noted the hanyou, miko, neko-youkai, and kitsune, watching them wide-eyed and blushing from a thick pile of brush not far from the cave entrance, before falling asleep. ****

Author's note: 

When I began this story, I believed it would be set somewhere between the disappearance of Naraku and the appearance of the Shichinin-tai, which would place this just before Chapter 234 of the manga or before Episode 102 of the anime, for you sticklers such as myself. I hope the interactions between Miroku and Sango are appropriate at that time in the series. 

Also, is anyone actually listening to the songs I'm excerpting? They're very good! 

-Scribe 

Chapter posted July 7, 2003 


	12. Sango's Sorrow: Part VI

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

SANGO'S SORROW: PART VI 

__

  
"What have I become, my sweetest friend?   
Everyone I know goes away in the end."   
- Nine Inch Nails, "Hurt" 

When next Miroku opened his eyes he found himself both surprised and pleased to feel rawhide laces over his wrists and ankles. He was sure Asesu held the memories and skills of a number of escape artists, but at very least this would slow him down if he failed. 

He seemed to be alone here. Outside his shelter he could see it was still night, but the cloudy, starless sky was different than before. There would be a storm soon. 

_How long was I asleep?_

Miroku was unsure. He could not sense Asesu anymore, but it was possible the ghost had gotten so deep into his memory that he could not be easily found. Miroku closed his eyes, knowing a brief meditation would quickly alert him to what Asesu was doing. 

"Houshi-sama." 

Miroku opened his eyes. Sango was sitting beside him, still in her taiji-ya uniform. Amazing that she could approach so quickly and so silently. 

"Sango, how long was I asleep?" 

"I'm sorry, Houshi-sama, I had hoped I would get back here before you awoke." 

"Don't apologize. You take care of me far too well, and too often." 

"Houshi-sama, when you speak like that, it almost makes me believe it's still you." 

The color drained from Miroku's face. 

"Sango? Nani?" 

"We decided, all of us. Well, not Shippou and Kirara. But the three of us decided. Kagome was against this, but Inuyasha convinced her. We couldn't go through with it unless we all agreed." 

Sango drew her sword. 

"Inuyasha wanted to spare me from doing this, but I couldn't allow him. I am a youkai taiji-ya, and I will be the one to exact vengeance on Miroku's life." 

"Sango, for the love of god, wait!" 

Miroku raised his bound hands in a reflexive attempt at defense, but Sango's blade plunged unhindered into his chest. 

His unbandaged chest. __

You absolute son of a bitch! 

Miroku concentrated his will on parting the illusion put before him, and suddenly the craggy overhang, the rocks around him, and the brush and trees he had seen outside the cave were simply no longer there. He could feel the blanket beneath him was now of soft grass and dirt. Flowers grew around him in all directions. The cloudy sky continued to swirl above him, but it was low, low enough to touch. 

The sword disappeared, though the wound did not, and a low fountain of blood began to flow from it. Miroku's hands were still bound, and now he could see the rawhide loops holding the rosary tight to his right hand, making it impossible to remove it and unseal the Kazaana. 

The figure beside him stood, and it did not wear Sango's shin-guards and boots but the robes of a houshi, and as Miroku looked to him he could see his own face, and Asesu's satisfied grin atop it. 

Miroku felt something warm and coppery rising in the back of his throat, and an unsettling numbness in his legs moving quickly up his body. 

"You were the first challenge I've had for well over a hundred years now," Asesu chuckled, "and still you fell quite easily. I suppose I would never have made a convincing impersonation of Sango using your memories, as you guarded them quite well, but I had all Sango's memories at my disposal and found them quite useful." 

"Yours was a terrible impersonation of her, and I was a fool to believe it even for a moment." 

Miroku coughed wetly, turned his head to the side and spat dark blood. 

Asesu jammed his shakujou into Miroku's gut in sadistic exasperation. Miroku gagged. 

"In about ten seconds you're going to be gone completely from this body, yet you won't even let me gloat." 

Miroku ignored him. "Sango is a kind woman, a compassionate woman. She would never raise her sword to me." He coughed again, his body wracked with pain. "She would never raise her sword to anyone who asked for her mercy." 

Miroku held his bound fists before his face. A loop of the rosary around his right hand hung over his mouth. 

"And by my death, you will not lay a hand on her!" 

Asesu's eyes widened, but he could not get a word out before Miroku bit into a bead of the rosary and wrenched his hands away from his mouth. The string snapped. A hail of beads littered the ground around his body. 

The Kazaana, unsealed permanently, immediately drew in the gauntlet and protective coverings on his right hand. Asesu clawed at the ground but was sucked in with a fit of screams and agony, along with a shower of wildflowers. 

The wildflowers. Miroku's memories. The reason he had not used the Kazaana against Asesu here. 

_Each piece of this land I suck in will be another memory lost forever. Now it is inevitable, for most of this land will be destroyed now. Since I will die here, that is of no consequence. When I am reincarnated, I will keep no memories._

_Still . . . I wish, how I wish, that I could remember Sango. _

Sango. 

My Sango. 

Miroku heard screaming, distantly realized it was coming from his own mouth, and was pulled into the void. 

_Kami-sama, please, whatever your intentions are for me, let me remember her name!_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

There was a river not far from where Miroku lay, and there Sango stood in the pre-dawn twilight, with her yukata and leggings rolled up past her knees and her taiji-ya catsuit in her hands, scrubbing it on the smooth rocks at the edge of the water. 

She was still blushing, and had been since she awoke beside the sleeping houshi and faced the gauntlet of Kagome, Shippou, and Inuyasha's stares of surprise. Even Kirara was looking at her mistress in a mocking and discernibly feline manner. Sango had checked Miroku, found his fever no worse, dressed his wound again, and mumbled sheepishly to her friends that she was going to wash her clothes before Miroku awoke. 

When they came to this area the previous evening she had laid Miroku over the Kirara's back and ridden in front of him, holding the firecat's mane with one hand and a handful of Miroku's robes with the other. She had seen the river, a cool strip of rock-littered blue coming from the mountains far above. It was about five minutes' walk away from where they set up camp, and its cold, clean water filled their canteens and provided Inuyasha with several meals of ramen during the day – all eaten with a lack of satisfaction even Sango noticed, preoccupied as she was. 

Sango had planned to return to the waters to wash her taiji-ya uniform and bathe, but after undressing and testing the river with a foot, she quickly realized it was far too cold for the latter and pulled on her yukata, tying the ends into the sash to keep the kimono dry in the knee-deep water. 

She wasn't quite sure what came over her in the past few hours. Miroku's revelations had startled her, and in the wake of his confessions she found herself unable to keep her self-imposed distance from the houshi. He had revealed his hand; she had shown hers. 

He gave her his feelings. She gave him a free caress. 

He gave her his fears. She gave him her comfort. 

He gave her honesty. She gave him acceptance. 

He gave her intimacy. She gave him . . . a promise. __

A promise. 

"More than that." More than a caress. 

Would you bear his child, if he asked? Would you go through pregnancy for this man, take yourself from battle for months or years, and let him fight without you while you bore and raised the child that would continue his battle if he should die? Could you do that? 

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't stay behind in Kaede's village while you battle Naraku. I can't forfeit my mission to save Kohaku." 

Her heart lightened, and she smiled. _ I shouldn't worry. I'm sure Houshi-sama knows of things men and women can do before they are ready to have a family. I can imagine a few myself._

The familiar howl of her firecat shook her back to reality. Kirara landed beside her, shaking her head slowly as she did when she sensed urgency. Shippou, eyes streaming with tears, clutched at the fur on the nape of her neck. 

"Miroku's stopped breathing!" 

Sango's fingernails drove into the material of her taiji-ya outfit as she ran to the pair of youkai. She threw her wet uniform across Shippou, straddled Kirara behind him, and held on. 

"Kirara! Quickly!" she shouted. 

She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't believe that this was happening. She told herself she would be fine to leave Miroku for a few moments. How selfish could she have been to take time to clean Miroku's blood from her clothes while Miroku himself took his last breath? How could she ever forgive herself if he died with all his friends around him but her? 

Kirara landed beside the overhang so quickly that Sango banged her head against Shippou's who had already folded Sango's clothes into a bundle. Although she surely hurt him, he did not cry out. 

Sango kneeled opposite Kagome, who was already working over Miroku, using the medicine of her people. Miroku's face was ashen, and the dressing on his chest, which Sango had changed less than an hour ago, was already soaked through with blood. 

Kagome was pressing her fists against his chest slowly and rhythmically, paused a moment, leaned her ear to Miroku's face to check his breathing, and then – kissed him? 

Sango stared in shock as Kagome pinched Miroku's nose and held her mouth over his. 

Suddenly, realization struck: She was breathing for him, forcing air into his lungs. 

_Miroku tried to do the same to me, shortly after we met, when I was nearly drowned by the false water god. He was trying to save my life, and I just hit him._

Kagome leaned back, pressed Miroku's chest five more times, and then leaned back to search through her first aid kit. 

"Aspirin, bandages, gauze, penicillin . . . why didn't I ever steal some _fucking atropine_?" 

Screaming, eyes shut with tears and rage, Kagome picked up the entire box and threw it over Sango's head. It struck the rock wall behind her with a metallic clang, knocking loose the lid and littering the inside of the cave with its contents. 

Sango could have strangled her for doing such a useless thing. 

"Keep doing it, whatever you're doing," Sango barked. 

"I can't," Kagome cried. "I can't keep him alive for more than a minute or two without the right drugs, and I don't have anything strong enough!" 

Sango pointed at the hanyou that was standing nearby, who would have been feigning ambivalence except for the way he watched the scene out one eye and the manner in which one foot was trembling. 

"Then tell Inuyasha what medicines to get and he'll look for them. You and I will keep Houshi-sama breathing." 

"Sango-chan, I don't know what sort of plants…" 

Sango slapped Kagome across the face. 

"Then guess!" 

Kagome opened her eyes, staring at Sango in shock. A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. 

For a second, there was nothing – not a sound. Sango's open hand hung motionless before her, at the end of an arc that included Kagome's cheek. 

"Oi, Sango," Inuyasha shouted gruffly. "You're a youkai taiji-ya. If you're looking to get out some aggressions, you come to me." 

Sango stared at Inuyasha, her face a cacophony of surprise and rage. 

"You know how good my sense of smell is," Inuyasha said. "It's too late." 

"Too late," Sango whispered. She got to her feet. 

"Too late! Inuyasha, how long?" 

"Ah…" 

"How long has he been dead?" 

Sango dashed to where Inuyasha stood, grabbing at the collar of his coat. 

"He died a few minutes ago," Inuyasha said flatly. 

"Before I got here?" 

Inuyasha stared back at her, but said nothing. 

"Did Houshi-sama die because I left him?" 

"He died in his sleep, Sango," Inuyasha said, in perhaps the most compassionate tone she had ever heard from his mouth. "He didn't cry out for you, he didn't struggle or scream. He just passed on quietly, a minute after we sent Shippou to find you. He would never have known if you were there or not. You heard his last words earlier tonight, Sango. He wanted nothing more from you, and I think you know it." 

Sango slid to her knees, one hand holding a leg of Inuyasha's hakama to keep from falling over. 

Slowly, wobbling on her feet, bracing herself on Inuyasha's extended arm, Sango stood and walked to Miroku. 

_Not Miroku anymore; it's Miroku's body. _

I killed him. He's dead and it's all my fault. 

She hugged him, pressing her face to his shoulder, staining her chest and hair with his blood, begging his hand to reach up and caress her, for how often had she sat beside him while he was deathly ill and he had done the same thing as this? __

This time it's different. 

"Houshi-sama," she gasped. She leaned close to his face and whispered in his ear, quiet enough that she hoped no one else could hear. 

"I'm so sorry. Sorry for holding back from you, for hiding my feelings. For caring for you – even loving you – and keeping it secret. For losing patience with you. For being jealous, when you flirted with other girls, and turning you down whenever you came to me instead." 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you this before. Please forgive me." 

She thought of the many times she had been saved by him, of the times she had fought and been lax, and Miroku had pushed her free of the sharp claws of a youkai, or had opened up his Kazzana to a swarm of poison. He had been hurt so badly so many times for her. She knew this would happen some day. She knew some day she would be leaning over him like this, holding him, and know the wound was too deep, the poison too strong, the strike too powerful. One day she knew she would hold him and the blood would never stop flowing, and she would feel his last breath on her face. Or not feel it at all. 

"I'll give you a child," she whispered, so softly she might have only been mouthing the words. "I'd give you anything if you came back to me. I need you, Miroku. Don't leave me. Not now." 

Kagome's hand was on her shoulder now, but both it and her own body felt a world away. Only vaguely did she hear Shippou crying Miroku's name, or Inuyasha cursing under his breath, or feel Kirara rubbing her hand sympathetically. 

"We need to bury him," Sango said. "A pyre would destroy the rosary and unleash the Kazaana." She touched his face with gentle fingers. "He wanted to die this way, I think. Not in a void, but with his friends around him." She brought her hand away, studying it. "I don't know how I know that. He never told me, but . . ." She bit her lip. "I can't believe I killed him." 

"Sango-chan," Kagome said. 

"He told me he would fight Asesu, in his mind, and that he might sacrifice his life to stop him. He died for us. But . . . if I hadn't hurt him . . . he might not have needed to." 

"It's alright, Sango-chan," Kagome said. 

Sango leaned back from him, hands spread before her, again red with his blood. 

"I . . . I left my armor at the river." 

"I can go get it," Kagome said quietly. 

"No, I'll go. I'm wearing his blood again. I need to wash." 

"Then I'll go with you." 

"I didn't mean to hit you, Kagome-chan." 

"I know. Don't worry about it." 

Sango nodded and, with Kagome's help, stood and walked back to the river. Kirara followed them, her nose and tails trailing the ground. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Inuyasha watched them go. Only after they had left his field of vision did he approach the houshi. 

"How dare you die on us," he growled. 

Inuyasha kneeled beside the body, finding his youkai senses a curse as the scent of Miroku and death filled his nostrils. 

"Bastard." 

He untied the knot on his kesa and slid it off from around his body, then unfolded it beside him. 

"I've buried a lot of humans since we teamed up, but I never expected you to be one of them." 

He rolled Miroku atop his kesa and began to wrap him with some rawhide strips Sango had left near where she had been sitting. 

"And to say those things to Sango . . .how could you do that? How dare you bring her so close to you and hurt her like this?" He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms. "You're a human, so you know how fragile humans can be. If you care for one, and you can't be sure you'll be able to live for her, then you should know well enough to keep your damned mouth shut!" 

Shippou, crying loud enough to have missed this monologue, had taken to the medical supplies Kagome had scattered and was putting them away in the dented-but-still-functional metal box. 

"Inyuasha," he asked, "What are we going to do?" 

Inuyasha tied the last strap around Miroku and stood up. "We bury him, have a funeral, and we go on our way." 

"How can you be so cold, Inuyasha? We can't keep going now!" 

"What, should we just go back to Kaede and cry? Will Naraku wait for us to come to him? Or will he simply become more powerful and come after us himself?" 

Inuyasha kneeled down and, hesitating for a moment, placed a hand on Shippou's head. 

"Look, we'll slow down a little, give ourselves some time to lick our wounds. But we'll keep going, and soon we'll be traveling as we used to be. We'll track down Naraku and defeat him. We won't forget Miroku, and we won't let his sacrifice go to waste by giving up. Understand?" 

Shippou nodded, closing Kagome's first-aid box in his hands. Inuyasha stood, looking around. 

"Will you be alright by yourself for a while?" 

Shippou nodded. "I sort of want a few minutes to talk to him alone." 

"Then you'll have your time. Kagome and Sango won't be gone long. I'll see your foxfire if there's any trouble." 

Feet digging into the ground, Inuyasha ran off, leaving a thin trail of a dust cloud. 

Shippou leaned over the bundled Miroku with hands clasped. But the thoughts in his head were jumbled, disjointed, and before he could think of anything to say his youkai ears faintly picked up the sound of cursing, screaming, the inhuman howls and bays of a sorrowful, vengeful inu-youkai, the crash of splintering wood, and the cacophony of the ageless trees tearing through their neighbors and crashing into the underbrush. 

Shippou smiled inwardly, despite his tears. 

_I am not a lone youkai in my grief, for that is how Inuyasha cries._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Kagome tried very hard not to stare at the pink trails that came from Sango's yukata when she dipped it into the river, or the taiji-ya that sat in the shallows upstream with her knees pulled up to her chest. 

"Sango-chan," she called out softly. "Sango-chan, you'll catch cold if you stay there." 

Sango turned to her slowly. Her eyes were still dry, though distant. She stared at Kagome for a moment, as if she did not recognize her, then stood, pulled her long hair over one shoulder, and squeezed the water from it with her hands. 

Sango picked up the towels Kagome had brought her and dried herself, then stepped into her black uniform. Her face betrayed no discomfort even as she pulled the damp clothing over her naked flesh and fastened it. As if by habit, she pulled on the remainder of the uniform – her armor, her boots, her sash. But as she reached into her bundle to pick up her short sword – the sword that was wiped clean of Miroku's lifeblood only a day before – she recoiled as if burned. 

Sango made a fist and turned away, then sat on a rock several feet above the waterline and tied up her hair. As she finished the knot, Kirara padded over to her and placed her head on Sango's lap. Sango absently brushed the neko-youkai between the ears. 

Kagome wrung out the yukata in her hands and shook it out. She suppressed a smile. Her detergent had worked; the bloodstains were gone. One thing went right today. 

The pettiness of such a concern hit her like a truck, and as she folded the clothing in her arms it took all her willpower not to burst into tears. 

"Your yukata," she said, her voice strained. "It's cleaned, good as new. We should bring it back to camp to dry." 

"Thank you, Kagome-chan." 

Kagome pulled herself up to a rock, dried her feet with the crumpled towel Sango had left, and put on her shoes and socks. She then picked up the bottle of detergent, her towels, and Sango's yukata, leapt to the bank, and stuffed them into her already-bulging backpack. 

"Are you coming, Sango-chan?" 

"I'll return soon." 

"Is it safe to be here alone?" 

Sango nodded almost imperceptibly. Still she continued facing east, across the river, to the coming sunrise. 

"Asesu is dead. Had Houshi-sama not succeeded, that thing would have taken over me a long time ago." 

"And the other youkai in this area?" 

Sango scratched her neko-youkai beneath the chin, eliciting a satisfied purr. 

"Whenever I was weak, Kirara has protected me. I'm safe with her." 

Kagome turned. 

"Bring my wakizashi with you, Kagome-chan." 

Kagome nodded, bent down to pick up the sword by its plain but functional wooden scabbard, and carried it with her. She could read Sango's intent in her voice: 

_Bring my wakizashi with you, Kagome-chan, lest I join Houshi-sama this morning. _

Protect me from myself. From my loneliness, my depression, my desperation. 

She walked slowly, wanting to stay near but knowing Sango would not allow it. As she crossed into the trees she could hear Sango speaking, though she could not discern the words, and knew they were not intended for her. 

As Kagome left her friend, echoes of pained, tear-stricken words she shared with her brother Kohaku, relayed to her by Inuyasha not long ago, echoed in her mind: 

_"I will kill you, and I will die too. It's the only way I can get you back from Naraku."_

_Sango-chan_, Kagome thought, _I know you aren't afraid to take your life. But please come back to us. I could never forgive you if you didn't._

Chapter completed 20 July 2003 


	13. Sango's Sorrow: Part VII

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe of Figaro 

SANGO'S SORROW: PART VII _

  
"Didn't know how much I love you.   
Is this the final destination?   
Somebody tell me what to do.   
Didn't know how much I love you."   
- Decay, "Didn't Know"

_

Sango stepped back from the widening hole in the earth of the meadow just outside the town, leaning on the small shovel Inuyasha had brought her. It was bought, borrowed, or stolen from someone in the village. She didn't ask. 

It was warm out, a sunny morning that would no doubt give in to afternoon before they had left this place. It should have been dark. It should have been raining. 

It always rained during funerals. 

But the weather mocked her sorrow, her emptiness, and shone on in spite of their loss. 

After a moment's hesitation, Sango unclasped the tunic of her taiji-ya outfit. From a hidden pocket she produced a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from around her loosened collar. 

She had been digging for about two hours now. Inuyasha had tried to help, but she wouldn't allow him. He and Miroku had buried her entire village, had ensured the souls of dozens of her friends and family a safe passage to the other world. 

She would bury Miroku. 

She turned to Inuyasha, and without a word each took one end of the bundle beside the open grave, the man wrapped tight in a purple kesa, and lowered it gently to the bottom of his final resting place. 

Inuyasha made a move to help her as she began to shovel the dirt in. She made eye contact, nodded slowly, and Inuyasha began to scoop the dirt with his own claws in a vaguely dog-like manner. The image was enough for Sango to smile wryly. 

As Sango plunged the shakujou into the freshly-made mound, Kagome and Shippou approached them. Each of them held something behind their backs. After searching Sango's face for approval, they approached Miroku's grave to make their offerings. 

Kagome kneeled down beside the mound with a tin lunchbox. It was quite large, probably one of the meals she had planned to share with all of them. Sango recognized gohan, sashimi, and norimaki. Kagome placed the opened lunchbox at the foot of the mound and placed a pair of chopsticks across one corner. 

"I think . . . these were your favorites," Kagome said quietly. 

Shippou was beside her now, and placed a picture next to Kagome's food. Sango had seen him drawing earlier, and she could tell this was one of his better pictures. It showed Miroku with his hand uncursed, smiling and happy under the light of a warm sun. Miroku in heaven. 

"That's beautiful," Sango said. "You're a great artist, Shippou." 

Shippou shook his head. "No, I'm not. I drew this six times before I got this much. I keep trying and trying, but nothing's ever good enough. . ." He started to cry as Kagome picked him up and hugged him. 

"I miss you, Miroku!" he shouted, clutching at Kagome's shirt. 

"We all miss you, Miroku-sama," Kagome said. 

Even Inuyasha seemed sad. He stood far behind them, arms crossed, eyes sharp and alert, but Sango realized his silence and knew he was mourning his friend in his own quiet way. 

"Sango-chan," Kagome said, standing. "Do you want us to leave you alone for a while?" 

Sango shook her head. "Why? We were just friends, that's all." She hesitated. "It's not like we were together, or . . ." She wrung her hands, frustrated for her lack of words. 

"I understand," Kagome said quietly. "We'll be waiting just over that hill," she said, gesturing to the rise not far past the village." 

Sango met her eyes briefly. _Arigatou._

She waited as Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippou made their way across the village. Perhaps they would ask for a reward from the town; perhaps not. 

Sango unfastened her ponytail and combed it briefly with her fingers, then took a small knife from her bag and cut a short length off. She bound this tightly with a small piece of the white ribbon she normally tied her hair with, then wrapped it in her green apron. She set this bundle at the foot of Miroku's grave. 

"Houshi-sama," she said, "it's been your sport to grope me for so long, I thought it might be nice to leave you with this, since you're so familiar with the feel of my apron." She smiled, feeling tears at the corners of her eyes, but held them back. "I'm going to miss you a lot, Houshi-sama. I'm not sure what I'm going to do next. That is, I know I need to rescue Kohaku, and defeat Naraku. But after that. . ." She bit her lip. "I mean, it wasn't like I was relying on you. They were just fantasies I guess. But I had wanted so much to live with you, to bear your children, and be your wife." 

She stood, brushing the dust from her knees. 

"I won't ever forget you, Miroku." 

She walked away with a sense of empiness, of the failure to complete something. __

We'll return with a monk to bless the grave. To make sure he goes to heaven. ****

Author's note: This is about as far from a contemporary Japanese funeral as one can be, but I'm operating on the assumption that the scenes in the anime where Inuyasha and Miroku bury people without cremation or any specific ritual are commonplace at that time. I'm operating off Takahashi's tendency to describe sengoku jidai Japan in only the most vague terms. 

Chapter completed 20 July 2003 


	14. Second Interlude: Rin

****

If You Need Her 

By Scribe of Figaro 

**SECOND INTERLUDE**

__

"Sonny came home with a list of names.   
She didn't believe in transcendence.   
'It's time for a few small repairs,' she said.   
Sonny came home with a vengeance."   
- Shawn Colvin, "Sonny Came Home" 

The young girl waited until the inu-youkai and toad-youkai were asleep. She was afraid that the very powerful inu-youkai would stop her, but this was not the case. 

She traveled far that night, keeping to the woods and hiding from the few travelers she came across. She believed the hanyou was very far from her, but a creature such as he would be well-remembered by those he came across, and as a young girl she could be quite persuasive in gaining information. 

She slept the next day, and it was well into the next evening when she allowed herself to be caught. 

He was a ronin, dressed in a simple dirty grey kimono and light armor. His eyes were red-rimmed, partly due, no doubt, to the jug of sake he was sipping as she came across him. 

"Ah, Missy. Seems a bit late for one such as you, don't you think?" 

"My parents were killed," the girl said. "I'm alone, and I'm very hungry." 

The ronin smiled. "Ah, a pretty such as you shouldn't need to work hard for a meal. Come with me and I'll give you a mouthful." 

She allowed him to take her hand and lead her far from the road, all the while grinning and blushing as she should. 

Once deep enough in the woods he kneeled before her and asked her name. 

"Rin," she said. 

His fingers found her obi, and she laid gentle hands on his cheeks. 

Grinning, she drove her thumbs into his eyes, piercing the orbs with her fingernails. 

He screamed, holding his hands to his face, trying desperately to keep his eyes in their orbits with the heels of his palms. Blood and ichor dripped to his chin. 

As he leaned away from her she took the wooden hilt of a tanto sticking from his obi, drew it with an underhand grip, and thrust it at the triangle of flesh bordered by the top of the man's chest armor and the upside-down _v_ of the man's forearms. Half of the twelve-inch steel blade went into his larynx before she withdrew. 

Rin leapt backward as the gurgling ronin pitched forward and died. 

He was heavy, but she could still roll him over with some effort. She took his tanto sheath and put away the weapon after wiping it clean on his kimono. She then took the bundle he had tied around his waist, finding some cooked rice and fish which she ate greedily. 

Once finished, she took the remainder of his food, bundled it up, and tied it around her waist. She wore the tanto on her back, held with her obi, hidden from view by her pack but easily accessible, as a kunoichi might carry her kaiken. 

Kunoichi were very useful these days, and have served Asesu well on numerous occasions. The girl Rin was too young, of course, but she had enough strength and speed to draw a blade into a killing stroke against someone unsuspecting, and that was enough. 

Most useful was the fact that this girl Rin knew Kagome, and held a trust in her that was perhaps mutual. With Miroku gone – Asesu cared not where – only Kagome held the power to purify him. Rin could find her, cut her throat, and be killed by Inuyasha all in an instant, and at that time Asesu would be free to continue his plan to take Inuyasha. 

It would have made sense to take Sesshoumaru first, of course. He had sensed how powerful the demon was when he took Rin, and had recognized the tai-youkai's name when he gleaned from Rin's mind. But there was something about Inuyasha that intrigued him, something he had learned from Sango's unguarded thoughts. Something about a well, and another world that only Inuyasha and Kagome could travel to. 

Asesu would have to see this place. 

Chapter written 28 August 2003


	15. Reunion: Part I

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe Figaro 

**SESSION THREE: REUNITED** **

I.

** _

_

"So hold me when I'm here   
Right me when I'm wrong   
Hold me when I'm scared   
And love me when I'm gone."   
- 3 Doors Down, "When I'm Gone" 

Sango was alone. 

She was sitting comfortably on yet another hillside of yet another village, her knees drawn up to her chest. Kirara had been with her, but Sango had become so lost in her thoughts that she had ceased petting her. The neko-youkai, clearly hungry, wandered off to search for food. Her mistress had not been feeding her regularly. 

The days had passed by slowly, but each day blended into the next so that she couldn't remember how long it had been. A few days, at least. A week, or two weeks, at most. They had traveled on slowly since Miroku's death, managing 5 ri each day at best. Before, the group had been averaging nearly 20. 

Then, there was the bird-youkai that leapt out at the group yesterday, or what Sango thought was yesterday. Sango hadn't seen it, and her hesitation would have cost her life if Inuyasha had not crossed in front of her and parried its beak with Tetsusaiga. 

Inuyasha shouted at her, but if it was his intention to make her aware of her weakness, of her constant state of distraction, it was a pointless endeavor. She knew it all too well; she just couldn't help it. 

Kagome was still protecting her – she quickly "osuwaried" Inuyasha, and told Sango that she would be alright, that she just needed more time to heal. It was hard enough to get here without Kagome's interference, but the fact was, Kagome simply wasn't helping. 

Here, she could be alone again. 

Here, her only company were the thoughts in her mind. 

Here, she could think of him, and at times forget that he was dead. 

It hurt sometimes, to forget, because it was followed by remembering. She wasn't sure how many times she had turned to the side, called his name to acknowledge him, and found that Houshi-sama simply wasn't there, and would never be there. 

Sometimes she called him "Houshi-sama." Sometimes she called him "Miroku." Sometimes she came to her senses before saying anything, and her mouth would be parted, dry, staring at the empty spot beside her where she could have sworn she heard the jangle of his shakujou, the rustle of his heavy robes, the shuffling of his feet through the tall grass, the gentle sound of his breath catching as he realized she had seen him. 

She thought of his robes, of how warm they felt when she had hugged him on his deathbed. How he had smelled, of soft rain and sweat and dirt and incense and inks and papers. How his eyes had drooped when the pain hit him, and how he pretended that the wound she gave him did not hurt and would not kill him. He might have been right about the latter, but not knowing one way or the other was no better than knowing for sure that it was her fault. 

She missed her family and her friends in the village, but she had found peace with that. Houshi-sama was part of her new life. Her new life had friends and adventure and a baka houshi who flirted with her but wouldn't ask her to bear his child because he knew she would. She had suffered a lifetime of tragedies, had lost everything to Naraku. She shed her blood, her brother's blood, her father's blood, and the blood of all her people. She was cleansed, the slate was wiped clean, and this was her new life. 

Her new life was not supposed to have such tragedy. 

Her first love was not supposed to suffer and die. 

Her new life wasn't supposed to involve sitting on a hillside, knowing that he was never going to come up behind her, greet her as she sat alone in her thoughts, and offer his company. 

Biting her lips, Sango leaned forward, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. 

She had not cried for him yet. 

She thought it might help to cry, but each time she thought she might, she just shook so hard it rattled her teeth. She might have whimpered once or twice, a pathetic sound she could not have believed she was capable of making. Never did she shed a tear. 

Somewhere, Sango knew, there was a rainstorm, a storm so great that it tore the banners from ships and pushed waves of rain into homes and snuffed out cooking fires. 

Somewhere, Heaven cried because Sango could not. 

Chapter completed 28 August 2003


	16. Reunion: Part II

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe Figaro 

**SESSION THREE: REUNITED** **

II.

** _

_

"In your house   
I long to be   
Room by room   
Patiently   
I'll wait for you there   
Like a stone   
I'll wait for you there   
Alone."   
- Audioslave, "Like a Stone" 

Kagome ran the conversation between herself and Sango through her mind again. She had given Sango an orange to coax a conversation out of her. The first real, back-and-forth conversation Sango had held with anyone since Miroku had died. 

It was only for a few minutes, and already Sango had left her. __

It's just as it was before. She held herself together when she fought Inuyasha for revenge of her family. She held herself together when she was bedridden in the endless gravesite that was once her village. She held herself together when she found her brother under Naraku's control, and when she decided to take Tetsusaiga to Naraku. But only when we had accepted her, had forgiven her of her transgressions, did she cry. 

She's strong. She might not shed a tear for Miroku. Some might call her callous, but I know her. She's hurting, hurting more than any of us. 

I've worked so hard to get them together, and now I see how stupid I was to ever try. I keep forgetting this is another time, a time with demons and ghosts and thieves, a time with disease and hunger and death. Death is everywhere. I forget these things, and I think that perhaps I can bring happiness to two people, two friends, two partners in combat, by encouraging them to be more. But I forgot how fleeting life is here, and the cruelty in me trying to make Sango love Miroku is unforgivable now. 

Would she be so sad if Miroku was nothing more than a friend to her? Would she be endlessly staring off in the distance? Would her lips quaver so often in tears just barely held back? 

She's lost everything. Her family. Her home. Her village. And the man she might have loved. I can't understand her now. I could never understand such loss, such terrible loss. 

Kagome apologized for trying to play matchmaker with Sango-chan and Miroku-sama. And yet, what Sango had replied as she left the hut both warmed her and chilled her at once: 

_"I would have cared for him the same."_

Kagome shook her head, forcing the memories away. Now alone, she began to tidy up the small hut they had rented for the evening. The rice was already cooking, and surely Sango could have smelled it before she had left. Kagome would set aside a good portion for her. 

"Inuyasha and Shippou should return soon," she murmured. "I hope they bring some fish like they promised." 

She rummaged through her backpack, produced her algebra book, and curled up in a corner with the book on her lap. 

She was quite thankful when she heard Inuyasha's voice about ten minutes later. 

"I told you that one's mine!" the hanyou shouted. 

"Inuyasha no baka!" shouted Shippou. "You just took it from me after I caught it!" 

"Because you dropped it, stupid kid!" 

The hanging cloth was thrown aside and Inuyasha entered, followed by an annoyed yet triumphantly strutting kitsune. Between them they carried at least a half-dozen small fish in their arms. 

Both tossed their fish in piles beside the fire and started to impale them on sticks to cook. 

Only at this time did Kagome look up and notice how dark Inuyasha's hair was in the candlelight, as well as his lack of dog-ears. 

He looked up to her, noticed her alarm, and shrugged. 

"Sun set just as I was getting here. Nobody saw me." 

"You're not worried?" Kagome asked. 

"Why would I be? We're in a safe village. I can't smell youkai anywhere." He paused. "At least, I couldn't before I changed. Can't really smell anything now." 

She smiled. __

He's so comfortable in his human form nowadays. He's not bothered to be weak in front of us. He might even sleep this time. 

"Make sure you leave some food for Sango. She might not return for a while." 

"Yeah, no problem," he said. 

After setting up four fish to cook, Inuyasha scooted away from the fire and stretched his arms. 

"Kagome," Shippou said, "Inuyasha and I went around town looking for a monk for Miroku. We found one family that was keeping a houshi for the night, but they said he had gone to the hot springs when we arrived, and we couldn't find him there." 

Inuyasha was already helping himself to a portion of the rice. "He's just a poor traveling monk. They said we ought to pay him twice the going rate for a funeral ceremony, but damned if I know how much that is. Anyway, I think we'd be better off going a bit farther and finding a decent monk. Someone so desperate for money might just run off instead of blessing the grave for us." He paused. "Plus, I think we can find someone of higher rank than that. Hell, I'd take even Mushin over the work of some poor traveling monk." 

The familiar jangle of a shakujou made them silent. 

"Aw, hell," Inuyasha mumbled. "Just be quiet, all of you, or he'll stand outside all night waiting for money." 

Kagome was already sifting through her backpack for some sengoku jidai coins. She stood, glaring at Inuyasha. 

"Miroku-sama was a houshi, too." 

She went outside, meeting the young man holding a worn clay bowl in front of him. His face was entirely obscured with a deep, bowl-shaped straw hat. At best she could see the thin line of his mouth, which smiled so very subtly at the clink of coins in his beggar's bowl. He turned, and only then did she recognize the gait of the man, the smell of dirt on his clothes, the fact his shakujou was identical to that of someone she once knew. 

"Miroku-sama," she whispered. He gave no reaction. 

"Houshi-sama!" she cried. He stopped mid-stride, turned ever so slightly toward her. He held the bowl out further, as if to allow her to reclaim her offering. 

Slowly she approached him, within arm's length now. He must have seen her clothes from beneath his hat, for he turned his head away, as if embarrassed. She took the opportunity to pull at the strap of his hat, sliding it off his head. 

His eyes were closed. His face was clearly Miroku's. 

"Please forgive me for disturbing you," he said. "But I am a simple houshi, and if your intent is to rob me I have nothing for you to take." 

"Look at me, Miroku-sama!" 

He opened his eyes, dark blue and curious, and studied her. 

"Miroku," he said. "That . . . that is my name?" 

"What happened to you, Miroku-sama?" 

His eyes widened. 

"You! You are the miko I was traveling with, aren't you?" 

She nodded. "Kagome! I'm Kagome!" 

"Then Sango must be here! Where is she?" 

"She's near. Miroku-sama, what happened?" 

She heard Inuyasha behind her now. She turned, seeing him just outside the hut, Tetsusaiga unsheathed in his hand. Untransformed, it could do little against youkai, but the dull blade was more than a match against nearly any human. 

"What's going on? What kind of trick is this?" Inuyasha asked. 

"I've lost my memory," Miroku replied. "I've been searching for Sango for several days. I had the feeling she came this way. Is she in here?" 

Miroku made movement toward the hut, but the tip of the sword the other man held stood rigid in the air, only inches before the monk's chest. 

"Just a damn minute," the man seethed. He took the opportunity to grab Kagome's arm and pull her behind him. The katana remained leveled at his opponent. 

"What are you? Naraku? Did Naraku reanimate you like he did Kohaku?" 

He backed away. "Naraku? Kohaku?" He lowered his eyes in thought. "Maybe?" 

Inuyasha growled. 

"Inuyasha," Kagome said, gripping the back of his hunting jacket, "He doesn't have a Shikon shard. He's not like Kohaku. And he doesn't smell like a demon, does he?" 

"Keh," Inuyasha muttered. "How the hell should I know? I can't smell anything at all." 

"Yes you can," Kagome said. "You can still sense youkai. You'd smell one if it was standing right in front of you." 

"Youkai?" Miroku gasped. "You think I'm youkai?" 

"You have a better explanation? You were a dead man last we saw you." Inuyasha sneered. "We've been tricked before." 

Miroku shrugged. "I guess I don't. I can't explain what happened to me." He looked up at them. "All I know is that I dug out of my own grave a few days ago, and the only thought in my mind was to find a girl named Sango. I felt – I still feel – that once I find her everything will be made right. Maybe she'll unleash my memories." He shook his head. "Or maybe she won't. I don't care, but I need to see her, and I need to see her now!" 

On his last word he heard a gasp from somewhere nearby. He turned towards the woods behind the cabin, and when he did he saw quite clearly a young woman in a white and pink yukata staring at him. She looked afraid, or perhaps simply amazed. 

When he saw her face he knew, he knew, _he knew_ it was her. Sango. His Sango. Lovely Sango. Beautiful Sango. 

She caught his stare and turned into the woods, running. 

He was after her. The two people who had confronted him had no chance to react. He closed half the distance before the clay bowl he carried ever struck the ground. 

"Damn," Inuyasha muttered. He was about to run, but Kagome grabbed his shoulder. 

"Don't!" she pleaded. He turned to her, saw her eyes quaver. __

Dammit, Kagome, don't cry. I hate it when you do that. 

"Don't stop him," she said. "He's not going to hurt her. I'm sure of it." 

Inuyasha hesitated, then sheathed his sword with a grunt. 

"I still don't trust him," he said. "We better follow them." 

Chapter completed 28 August 2003


	17. Reunion: Part III

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe Figaro 

**SESSION THREE: REUNITED**

**

III.

**

__

"You fell down, of course   
And then you got up, of course   
And started over   
Forgot my name, of course   
Then you started to remember."   
- The White Stripes, "Same Boy You've Always Known" 

Miroku was already out of breath. Leaning against a tree with one hand, he held the other to his gut to suppress the ache there. 

He did not see Sango. He had not noticed when she had stopped to pick up a heavy stick for a makeshift weapon. He did not notice her double-back on him, or watch him from the bushes. He did not hear her when she, having lost her patience, approached him from behind with the heavy branch at her side. 

He heard her voice. 

"Don't move." 

He of course did not heed that – it was mere reflex that made him turn to her. He had a split-second to see her face again, to take in the chestnut eyes with coral eyeshadow, the raven hair, the lips drawn thin with anger, before she broke the two-inch length of sapling over his forehead and knocked him to the ground. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The young woman in the pink and white yukata, her hands on her hips, stood over the prone man in the dark robes. The heavy branch that had dispatched him to an uneasy rest lay at her feet in pieces. The man had not moved since he collapsed a moment ago, and the red patch above his right eye where she had struck him bled slowly into his hairline and toward his ear, but the slow movement of his chest indicated he was still alive. 

_He looks like him. He really looks like him. _

But it's impossible. He died. I saw the body. I buried him. I buried him a week ago. 

But here he lies. 

He's a puppet. Another puppet sent by Naraku to torture me. First my brother, now Houshi-sama. He would smile, greet me, caress my bottom, and snap my neck, all at once. 

Still . . . 

No. It's not him. Nothing comes back from the other world. Nothing whole, at least. Nothing good. Kikyou was resurrected, but she remains a clay doll, cold and uncaring, unable to forgive Inuyasha for the betrayal despite her equal part in Naraku's manipulation, unable to forgive herself for the feelings she must have had toward Inuyasha to allow the betrayal to take place, and holding somewhere in her heart – I am sure – the desire to drag Inuyasha to hell. 

And Kohaku. 

Kohaku was resurrected, but he is controlled by the tainted shard in his back and his own broken memories. He is not my brother; despite the assurances of the others I can't believe it. They did not know Kohaku; they don't understand. Even if he returns to me for good, he would be a different person. Without his memories of me he can not regard me as his sister anymore; with his memories he would live every day reliving the agony of killing Father and the others in his mind. Damn me for encouraging Father to train him! Damn me for following the ways of my village when I knew Kohaku never desired the life of a youkai taiji-ya. Damn me for not protecting him when he needed me most. 

And what to do with the false Houshi-sama? Would you free him, as you tried to free Kohaku from the clutches of your enemy by your sword? Surely you can't beat Houshi-sama to death here. 

I have my glaive on my wrist. I can draw it out, cut his throat in an instant. I can take care of him myself. 

She meant to kill him as she kneeled beside him. But something stopped her, and against her intentions her hands went to his face, cupping his cheeks. 

_No puppet of Naraku would feel this warm._

She bit her lips, holding the tears back. __

It would do no harm to wait. He can't hurt me, so long as I keep my guard up. 

Fingers trailed down his neck, through the worn black fabric of his robe and the tattered remains of his kesa. She felt something within the folds of her robe, and unable to stop herself she drew out a roll of the brilliant white paper that Kagome had brought to Shippou from her time. Fingers trembling, she unrolled the parchment, confirming that it was the same picture that the kitsune had drawn and set beside Miroku's grave. 

_Is it possible, Kami-sama, is it possible for a man to come back from hell, pick up his funeral offerings, and return them to his family? Would my enemy be so thorough to carry such trinkets?_

She didn't see him open his eyes, only the hand that shot up to grip her left wrist. Without thought, she flicked her wrist to release the curved blade hidden beneath the sleeve of her yukata and brought it to his neck. 

He paused, watching her, but only for an instant. She must have looked frightening to him – her teeth clenched, her eyes bleary from tears, her entire body shaking from tension as she held the sharp convex edge of her blade against the delicate flesh of his neck – but he seemed to have the inhibitions of a drunkard, aware of her body but not his own. Her Houshi-sama. 

Even as she held the blade to his throat, he drew her left hand to his lips and kissed the palm gently, drawing a long breath against it, his fingers gently intertwining with hers. 

He stared at her, mouth open. Never in her life had Sango seen such desire, such passion, such ineffable want. He came to her from the other world, across chasms she could never fathom. His eyes spoke to her: _I have been a wandering ghost until this very moment; death holds no providence over he whose love for Sango continues beyond this world. Touch me and make me alive, kiss me and make me breathe, marry me and make me a legacy, love me and make me whole._ She wondered if her father had ever looked at her mother this way, if any man had ever looked at a woman in such a way. 

"Houshi-sama," she said, her throat so dry she could not hear her own voice. She pulled her right arm away, turning her wrist so that the blade mounted upon it clicked loose and fell to the grass. 

Still holding her hand, still staring in her eyes, he sat up. 

She couldn't meet his gaze any longer – she would be hypnotized, were she not already. Her arms wrapped around him, gripping his robes tightly, crushing her chest against his, trying to feel him with as much of her body as she could. She felt his hands on her back, doing the same. In her mind she still expected treachery; in her heart she knew that even if this was a trick and he planned to stab her in the back this instant, she would not regret this moment. 

"Sango," he growled against her ear. "Sango, I need to tell you –" 

"Iie!" she shouted, digging her fingernails into his back. _Don't ruin this, don't speak. Just be. Be here, with me. Forever. Whatever you do, don't you dare let me go._

Below the cosmic slow-dance of the stars, two figures held each other. They moved no more than the trees and grass around them; between them stood feelings so brilliant and so timeless that the new moon above very nearly fled from the sky in a fit of envy.   
  


Chapter completed 28 August 2003


	18. Third Interlude: Inuyasha

****

If You Need Her 

by Scribe Figaro 

THIRD INTERLUDE: INUYASHA 

Humans were afraid of the dark. 

Inuyasha found such fear silly, but he himself held the same apprehensions on the first night of the moon. His sight became so poor that he could not see anything but the vaguest shapes. His sense of smell became so dulled that he could not detect an enemy unless it was already upon him. His hearing became so weak that if he slept the sound of nearby footsteps might not rouse him. 

He did not sleep in his human form. 

He needed Miroku around to be at ease. Miroku slept very lightly, if he slept at all. Each time Sango moved in her sleep he could hear the bouzu's breathing pause. When she awoke and left camp to worry over her brother, Miroku would always open his eyes and watch her go. Sometimes he followed her. Once in a while he would return with a red welt on his face. Sango would not be far behind. She would be angry. Even from the tree branch on which he feigned sleep, Inuyasha felt a bit unsettled. But it was better to see her angry. Sadness sapped your strength, made you weak. Anger made you stronger, harder. Anger can be forged into a weapon to destroy your enemy. 

But, just as importantly, he hated to see Sango cry. Not as much as he hated to see Kagome cry, but almost. 

Almost. 

Inuyasha had found peace with Miroku's resurrection. He still had some distrust until the morning after he had returned to them, but as his hanyou senses returned, Inuyasha quickly realized that Miroku . . . well, he just _smelled right_. How else could he say it? 

There was grave-dirt on him, of course, but he could tell that was mostly washed off and held only lightly to the purple cloth he wore. He held an untainted Miroku-smell, and less strongly was the Sango-smell, the Inuyasha-smell, the Shippou-smell, and the Kagome-smell. Inuyasha could detect all of these on Miroku and knew that such a thing would not be possible unless he was the same man who had spent countless days traveling with them. 

And, to her credit, Kagome was more than a shard-detector. He didn't quite understand the concept of a kind heart, but he had an idea. Kagome had one, and she could sense it in others. If Miroku meant to hurt them, Kagome would know. 

Both of them would sense Naraku's influence on Miroku if he was resurrected by him. They were fooled by Kohaku, but only because they dismissed Naraku's taint on him, that they considered it evidence of his previous enslavement to Naraku and not his current state. 

Besides, Naraku did not have the power to resurrect people by himself. Not without a Shikon no kakerra. 

Still, it was unsettling letting Miroku and Sango go off together. It was of course necessary for them to leave for Kaede's village. Miroku could not remember most of his life, and his cavalier attitude was missing along with it. To be fair, it suited Inuyasha's tastes that Miroku forgot he was a pervert. But he also forgot his Buddhist rituals, and a holy man that could not write and use sealing scrolls, or whatever other tricks humans used, was not much use to them. 

And that wasn't all. They had told him of the Kazaana, and he had appeared so disturbed by the information it was unlikely he would ever use it, out of fear that he might not recall how to re-seal it. They had told him of his family, but rather than filling him with vengefulness, it made him despair. Inuyasha knew that Miroku would surely die if he continued to travel with them as he was. He knew that he would be safe in Kaede's village, that the old priestess would know how to help him become whole again, and that Sango would protect both of them until that time. 

But what if it was all a trick? What if Naraku was not ahead of them but back in Kaede's village, knowing Sango and Kirara alone would stand no chance against his youkai swarm? 

If something happened, if they were wrong and Miroku had returned only to betray them . . . 

Inuyasha regretted his willingness to continue onward. But what would Kagome say if they turned around? Would she consider him weak? 

He couldn't allow that. To be weak – to even appear weak – is death. Death to him, death to Shippou. 

Death to Kagome. 

No, he couldn't allow that at all. 

His ears twitched. Something was coming. 

Something very small. 

He could smell it too. A young girl. She was sweating, breathing hard. She had been moving quickly for the past few days. 

He recognized the scent. __

Rin. 

He could not detect his brother. If Sesshoumaru was coming, he was far behind the girl. __

Something is wrong. 

Inuyasha slowly slid from his perch. He reached a hand over Kagome's shoulder and shook her awake. 

"Inu . . . yasha?" she yawned querulously. 

"Get up. Rin is coming, and she's alone." 

"Alone?" 

Kagome quickly unzipped her sleeping bag, slipped on her penny-loafers, and got to her feet. She took notice of what direction Inuyasha was watching and strained her eyes to see through the dimly-lit trees. 

"She won't be here for a few more minutes," Inuyasha said. "Be ready." 

"For what?" 

Inuyasha grunted. One hand tightened over Tessaiga's scabbard; the other hovered inches above the hilt. 

Kagome beheld him with abject horror. 

"Inuyasha! You wouldn't hurt Rin!" 

He couldn't tell if it was a command or a question. Perhaps she didn't know either. 

"This is some sort of trap. I can feel it in my blood." His voice was low and deliberate. As much as she and the others made fun of Inuyasha for his lack of intelligence, Kagome could tell by the detached way he spoke that his mind was racing, strategizing, and at the same time taking in every smell, every sound, every movement around them. 

"Rin wouldn't come here alone unless she was forced into it. I don't know if it's Sesshoumaru or Naraku or what, but something's about to attack us. When it does, you and Rin get behind me. Understand?" 

Kagome nodded. 

They waited. 

The girl came. 

She pushed herself through the brushes softly, her hair muddy and scattered and full of twigs, her kimono stained and torn in places, mud caked to her feet and calves and scored with sharp thorns and other undergrowth. Her hands were in tight fists at her sides, and there was a traveling pack much too large for her tied around her waist. 

"Kagome!" she cried. 

It was as if that strained voice drove the memory of the past minute straight from Kagome's mind. She ran to the girl, meeting her halfway between the old tree that was their camp and the line of trees from which the young girl came. Kagome kneeled down before the girl and allowed her arms around her, not quite meeting at Kagome's back. 

"Rin-chan," she whispered. "Rin-chan, what's wrong?" 

It was at that moment Inuyasha felt the fast approach of a powerful inu-youki. True to his pompous nature, he could tell his brother had raced to the very edge of Inuyasha's vision and then walked slowly from that point on, so that he could approach from the woods in a dignified manner. 

"Sesshoumaru!" Inuyasha called to his brother. "Always a pleasure to fight again." 

Sesshoumaru ignored him. As he walked toward Rin, Inuyasha drew his blade and blocked his path. 

"Fool," Sesshoumaru uttered under his breath. 

"What's going on here, Sesshoumaru?" Inuyasha demanded. 

Sesshoumaru stopped mid-step, and something in his face registered in Inuyasha's mind. He didn't know his brother very well, nor was he familiar enough with his mannerisms or countenance to read his mind. But there was something about the way he avoided Inuyasha's gaze, the way his otherwise effortless dismissal of everything Inuyasha said and did somehow didn't seem quite so effortless. Inuyasha's question pricked him. __

He doesn't know. Sesshoumaru doesn't know what's going on. 

Behind him he heard the sound, the terrible sound, the sliding of metal upon wood and leather as a knife was drawn from its sheath. 

Inuyasha turned, seeing the slow arc of glittering blade in Rin's right hand, the shining metal dancing in the moonlight, drawing a path from Rin's back to the general vicinity of Kagome's throat. 

The act was done before Inuyasha could so much as take a step. Kagome, eyes wide with surprise, pushed herself from her knees to her feet and stepped backward. 

Kagome's mouth formed the words "Rin-chan," but the only sound was a gurgle in her throat. She turned to Inuyasha, eyes pleading, as a thin horizontal red line appeared halfway between her chin and collarbone, encompassing half her neck. 

Startled at the voice that would not leave her throat, Kagome pressed a hand to her neck. The slight pressure was enough to coax a fountain of bright red blood from between her fingers. 

Her eyes rolled backward in her head. 

Her knees buckled. 

Her white blouse turned red and stuck to her chest. 

Her lips moved. 

"I-" 

Blood poured from her mouth. 

"-nu-" 

The scent of blood assaulted his nostrils. 

"-ya-" 

One hand reached out toward him. 

"-sha." 

Inuyasha's mind split in two. His hands gripped Tessaiga tightly. 

Shippou, mindless, heedless, fearless, lept at Rin, a feral roar in his throat, and met the cross-swing of Rin's blade, impaling him through the chest. With an atypical kitsune tenacity, he sunk his teeth into Rin's hand, finding bone, and disarming the girl. 

Shippou fell on his side, inches from Kagome, the tanto's hilt sticking out his chest and much of its blade protruding from his back. 

Rin leaned down, extracted her weapon with her left hand, and ran it along her own throat. 

Three bodies lay in a pile before Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru. 

Sesshoumaru raised an eyebrow. Clenched his teeth. Sucked in a short breath. __

Rin . . . 

His mind raced with something a human might call horror, but his thoughts were interrupted by the assault of a powerful youki on his senses. 

He heard a low sound, a laugh. Maniacal. Deadly. 

Inuyasha turned to him. His face was dark, streaked with the lines of his inu-youkai heritage. His eyes were blood-red and focused on Sesshoumaru. 

"Inuyasha . . . you have . . . transformed?" 

Inuyasha smiled. One hand released Tessaiga and clenched a fist at his side. The other slashed at the air, testing the form of the blade. __

His youkai nature has never before wielded Tessaiga. 

He has been driven insane. Tessaiga should bind his youkai blood, but its limit is surpassed. 

Inuyasha is a formidable opponent with the sword. With his youkai blood strengthening him, he may very well be unstoppable. 

This may be it. The final fight between us. 

Seshoumaru drew Toukijin. 

"I refuse to believe it," he said. "I have already determined your fate. You will not die here, and you most certainly will not defeat me." 

Inuyasha laughed. 

With a single effortless swing, as if swatting a fly, Inuyasha sliced the Kaze no Kizu. Waves of deadly energy raced to Sesshoumaru. 

"Die." 

**Author's notes:** "OMGWTF!?" 

Since I've started this story, its structure and movement has changed significantly, and thus I need to fix a lot of the previous chapters. This is a change I've intended since mid-summer, but I've yet to find the time to go on FF.net to rearrange the chapters. They belong in the same order, but they belong in "Sessions" with the following titles, with the "Interludes" as brief offside events that give me a break in the timeline and move the narration a few days forward or backward. 

Session One: Miroku's Journey   
Interlude: Asesu   
Session Two: Sango's Sorrow   
Interlude: Rin   
Session Three: The Return   
Interlude: Inuyasha   
Session Four: Breathe With Me 

Separating events this way is awkward at best, but it's the best way I can manage to make such a structurally odd story episodic. I apologize if it's confusing, but I like to try new stylistic techniques with my fiction (and fanfiction) whenever possible. 

Thanks again to everyone who have written to me about the story, and thanks especially to those who have been patient as I allowed this story to gestate in my mind. I realize three months is an obscenely long time to allow between updates, but I cannot force myself to write at any pace other than what is normal to me. 

That's enough, then. On with the story. 

-Scribe 

Chapter completed 29 November 2003


	19. Breathe With Me: Part I

****

If You Need Her 

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FOUR: BREATHE WITH ME 

__

"Breathe the pressure   
Come play my game and I'll test ya."   
- Prodigy, "Breathe With Me" 

"Into the sea of waking dreams   
I follow without pride   
Nothing stands between us here   
And I won't be denied."   
- Sarah McLauchlan, "Possession" 

**I.**

The fallen leaves danced around them, mirroring the chaos and confusion in Sango's mind as she sat beside him. 

Kaede had eased her torment. The woman knew of a cure for Miroku's illness, but it would not be so simple as some sort of tea or medicine. No, the old miko's powers were not absolute, and making Miroku whole again would require a trial and a journey. 

The old miko knew of an ascetic that lived within a few hours' journey, a woman who knew well the boundary between this world and the next. Kaede assured them that if anyone was capable of regaining memories so lost as Miroku's, this old woman would be. 

They would begin their journey after a midday meal. She should have felt rushed, but delaying a few hours did not bother her. She missed him, missed him very dearly, and she appreciated the chance to spend some time with him, even if in silence. It was possible they would have some more youkai to fight before Miroku could be helped, and since his fighting abilities and houriki were forgotten along with his memories of his friends, it would be best to allow both of them rest before moving on to what could be a very perilous series of battles. 

Meanwhile, she sat here with Miroku beside her. Despite his ailment, he retained his stoic mask. Ever-patient, ever-truthful, ever hers, her anchor, her rock, the one thing in this world she could trust unflinchingly. It was amazing how little his expression changed. He was so closed off from her, his thoughts locked down so tightly, that here, while he held no dreams to consider, no nightmares to obsess over, no enemies to hate, he kept the serene expression of a Buddha, a learned man who thinks lightly of serious matters and thinks seriously of trivialities. 

Again he was hers, and the leaves fell. 

"You can, if you want," she blurted out, breaching the silence between them. 

He turned slightly toward her. For the past few minutes he had been stealing glimpses at her, and appeared relieved he could study her face more freely. 

"Caress it, I mean," she said. Her lips tightened in a line, her cheeks blushed. 

"My bottom." 

He chuckled lightly. 

"I assure you that I would not betray my feelings for you with such an uncouth act." 

It amazed Sango that her immediate reaction to this was one of disappointment. 

"Oh," she said. 

The utterance hung awkwardly in the air. Sango bit her bottom lip. 

"May I . . . caress Sango elsewhere?" 

Her eyes met his. 

"Your hair," he said. 

She nodded, closing her eyes as she felt his hand stroke her head. She leaned toward him and felt his lips touch her forehead. 

"When I awoke days ago, I thought that I was married. I thought that picture was drawn by our child, but now I realize it was Shippou's." 

She let loose a sigh. "Yes," she said. "Shippou is quite talented at drawing." 

His voice became deeper, more urging at her pointed evasion of his words. 

"You have nothing to say to me when I tell you I thought we were married?" 

"It would seem rude to dwell on such an honest mistake." 

His hands tightened on his shoulders. She pressed her cheek to his chest. 

"What are we, Sango? Husband and wife?" 

"No," she said, her voice low and serious. 

"Betrothed?" 

"No." Despite herself, she felt a twinge of disappointment with saying so. 

"Friends?" 

"More than that." 

He leaned back. Deprived of her shoulder to lean on, she again sat beside him, keeping his quizzical stare. 

"What am I to you, Sango? After what I've been through, I beg you, give me an answer from your heart." 

His voice cracked slightly on that last word, though he otherwise maintained his composure. It hurt him to walk into a relationship blind like this. It hurt him to have feelings for a woman without knowing to what degree they were reciprocated, if at all. It hurt him to know he held no claim to her, that the ties between them were not marital or societal, and were perhaps invisible to all but their closest friends. 

She tilted her head slightly and, without intending to, found her mouth turning upwards in the hint of a smile. 

"You are my Houshi-sama." And with that she felt her eyes water, for rarely did she have the courage to say something so true to anyone. She wanted him. She needed him. And what more, she had him. 

Miroku smiled, his sudden worry evaporated. "Your Houshi-sama." He chuckled. "Yes, that's exactly how I feel." He turned away from her, pretending to study the valley beneath them, but keeping watch at her out of the corner of his eye as she lay serenely on the grass. 

Still, the leaves fell. 

Chapter completed 29 November 2003


	20. Breathe With Me: Part II

****

If You Need Her 

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FOUR: BREATHE WITH ME 

**II.** __

"Did she make you cry   
Make you break down   
And shatter your illusions of love?   
Is it over now?   
Do you know how   
To pick up the pieces and go home?"   
- Stevie Nicks, "Gold Dust Woman" 

The flames flickered across the face of the miko. The heat of the fire did not warm her skin, but it comforted her to pantomime the living. 

Kikyou felt relaxed here, or something close to it. Satisfied with her progress in searching for Hakurei-zan. Conscious of the fact she followed the path of Inuyasha, Sesshoumaru, and Kouga. Amused that Naraku had created so many enemies in such a short time. Aware that they would fail to do any more than weaken and hurt the creature, as only the Shikon no Tama held the power to completely rid such a powerful youkai from the earth. And, most certainly, determined that she would be the one to ensure such an event came to pass. 

At this time of the evening she would begin her prayers and personal reflection, but such acts would have to wait for this visitor to leave. It would be rude to ignore a guest. Even if it were nothing more than a flea-youkai. 

She had no idea where it had come from, but she recognized it as the tiny creature that claimed himself as Inuyasha's retainer. She was surprised and a bit suspicious of the politeness in which it carried itself before her, but she supposed a creature so small would have to depend on a lowly and honorable demeanor to survive long outside the presence of its master. 

The flea, Myouga, told her of the creature that endangered Inuyasha and his friends, that killed the houshi who traveled with them. He told her of its power to live in men and youkai, to control them, to kill them and seek another. 

Kikyou would not expect to hold audience to an insect, nor to listen with honest concern to its story, but Myouga clearly was one of the oldest and wisest youkai she had come across in recent memory, and his plea for her assistance in striking down such a legendary bakemono pulled at her need to fulfill her responsibilities – real or imagined – as a miko. 

The flea, after having taken a brief break to drink something she dare not ask from a flask, continued his speech. 

"You must understand that this thing, this evil, is something beyond you, beyond Inuyasha. Even beyond Naraku. Though he lacks the strength, the hoardes of youkai, that The Creature that was Onigumo had, his ability to traverse lives makes him far more dangerous." 

"If this is true," Kikyou said, "then it is my duty to rid him from the earth. Even if it requires helping your master." 

Myoga nodded. "You are most generous, Kikyou-sama." 

"Tell me your plan." 

Myoga shifted his weight where he sat. Kikyou had the suspicion that a creature weighing as little as he did so only as a nervous habit, a mimicry of larger creatures. 

"There was a Great Monk, Sen, who was a student of Buddha and studied this creature Asesu before he was Enlightened. He was one of the few to know anything about this creature." 

"And?" 

"It was already known that Asesu could traverse lives, and that he could only leave a body after it was dead. When this occurs, no man, creature, or youkai could possibly resist him. No wall can stop him. And, once he has come into a new body, he asserts full control very quickly, unless the man is very wise, and is able to challenge Asesu. If he succeeds in this challenge, as very few men have done, he is ejected from the body and will simply select another. This was a most challenging problem, but eventually Sen came to the conclusion that he could trap Asesu." 

"If he had a good plan, I can't help but ask why it hasn't worked yet." 

"You are wise, Kikyou-sama. His plan did not work yet because it required a piece he did not have at his disposal. You see, if one defeats Asesu in his mind, he may force Asesu into a container. But Asesu will easily escape through the container – outside a body, he knows no wall or barrier. Unless, inside, there was a Life that Asesu would take in his desperation, a Life trapped in the bottle, which Asesu would be irrevocably attached to. But – and this is most important – for Asesu to be trapped forever, the Life must not be a creature that is capable of killing itself, of starving, of dying of old age. It must be a Thing Which Lives But Does Not Die." 

"A thing which lives . . . but does not die?" 

"Your Souls, Kikyou-sama. Your souls are the key to this. They are irresistible bait to Asesu, and by sacrificing one you will seal his fate. 

She pressed a hand gently to her chest, where her heart would be should she have been a living woman and not a golem, a vampiress surviving on the life of dead girls. It hurt her enough to insult these souls as she already did, to send her soul-stealers to capture them from the air and deliver them to her like a thief-baron, but to use one as a bait for some unholy animal struck her as deeply and viscerally wrong. 

But what was she to worry about such trivial moralities, to let her hypocritical respect for the dead allow a life-stealing parasite like Asesu to continue his travels? She had seen the houshi's grave days before, and had – almost by reflex – burned incense and afforded him prayer. She trusted this creature Myouga, and his desperation became her own. 

With a hint of resignation, Kikyou nodded. 

"Tell me what I must do." 

Chapter completed 29 November 2003


	21. Breathe With Me: Part III

**If You Need Her **

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FOUR: BREATHE WITH ME 

III.  
_"I seem to recognize your face  
Haunting, familiar yet I can't seem to place it."  
- Pearl Jam, "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town"_

They found no trial on this journey. No youkai, no highwaymen, no legion of samurai protecting the old woman. No tests to pass, no tricks to see through, nothing but the long path, the unassuming hut in the thicket, and the old, hobbling, sharp-eyed woman within. 

Sango found herself not quite disappointed, but at unease. Her senses remained sharp, and like a sprinter who stays too long in a crouch, awaiting a call to start that never comes, her mind and body began to ache with apprehension. 

The path was long, for Kaede instructed them to walk rather than ride Kirara, lest they miss their destination. Kaede's directions were exact, and their day's walk brought them to the old woman with their strength intact and their moods pleasant. 

Kirara, for her part, was not bothered by her role of mascot rather than steed. She would find a comfortable spot on Sango's shoulder, hiding beneath a cascade of hair. Then she would grow bored, jump to the ground, and forge the path ahead of them on soft and rapid paws. Then tired, she would move to Miroku, forming a similar place of rest on his shoulder, digging claws into his robe, and sleep for an hour or so. Once awakened, she would again go to her mistress. 

Kirara followed this pattern exactly for the entire course of the journey, and now she regained her strength from the shallow bowl of fish broth the woman had presented the neko-youkai with. 

Beside her were Sango and Miroku, both with cups of exotic-tasting tea. Before them was the fire, and beyond that the woman, whose name Sango still did not know, watched them silently with a smile that was both knowing and enigmatic, and set Sango at ease. Mostly. 

When their silent meal was done, the old woman placed the cup beside here and spoke for the first time. 

"Forgive me for testing your patience so, but it is my way to refresh visitors before speaking to them about serious matters." 

She stood, walked to where Miroku sat, and kneeled before him. 

"Ah, Houshi-dono. I knew you would have no trouble reaching this place. You memory may be lost, but your heart is not." She cupped his cheeks. "Yes, I see the wisdom in your eyes. You have many trials ahead, and you will pass them without regret." She touched his hand. "The Kazaana holds no power in this place, and I expect you take both comfort and fear in this. Do you trust me, child?" 

His eyes met hers. 

"I do." 

Her wrinkled fingers pulled loose the rosary that sealed the Kazaana, but no hell-winds came. She smiled, as if she herself were surprised by this. 

"Would Naraku only but know the limits of his power. Even his most infamous curse cannot withstand the good and pure places in this world. Look." 

She pulled off the gauntlet as well, and to Miroku's surprise he saw his whole hand. The black circle over the palm was so faded that it merely darkened the skin beneath. Had he known no better, he would have thought the mark was nothing more than the evidence of a lump of coal he had grasped. 

The woman placed the rosary and gauntlet before Miroku and moved on to Sango. 

"Taiji-ya-san," she breathed, bowing reverently. Sango returned the gesture. 

"I know your face, but I lament that my visions do not do justice to your beauty. I can see why Houshi-dono has so much trouble behaving himself around you." 

Both Sango and Miroku blushed at this and looked away from each other nervously. Sango, however, had her face quickly caught in the woman's hands. 

"In your eyes I can see deeper, and the stronger affections Houshi-dono holds for you make more sense to me now. I apologize for not seeing it before – you are truly the descendent of Midoriko. She was not a huntress as you are, but held the same fire, the same passion for life." She smiled. "And perhaps, the same passion for love, but she made her sacrifice long before anyone knew to which man her heart leaned, if any." 

"Midoriko was of my village," Sango said, "and many stories of her were told when I was a child. But I am the last to know them, for I am the sole survivor of my clan." 

The woman smiled and clasped her hands. 

"I wish I could tell you more, but at this time all I can comfort you with is my promise that Naraku failed. The Taiji-ya village is decimated but not destroyed, and the ghosts that haunt its walls will one day be drowned out by the laughs of children. Ten, or even twenty. And they will be only the first of many generations." 

"I hope I live to see that," Sango whispered. 

The woman backed away, and the smile she gave Sango was so reassuring and yet so sad that she found it hard to contain her tears. 

"I know, dear. I know." 


	22. Breathe With Me: Part IV

**If You Need Her **

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FOUR: BREATHE WITH ME 

IV.  
_"Was a bug.  
Little bug.  
Hardly there."  
- Randy Newman, "The Time of Your Life"_

Inu-taisho, the great youkai lord of the Western Lands, took great pride in his castle. It was nowhere near large enough for a leader of his stature, but he was not one for spending long days in his home, so there was no gain to having a great manor except the possibility of a greater enticement to pillagers. This mattered little, though, since the castle was guarded by loyal members of the dog clan and many wolf-youkai rendered masterless by the continual civil upsets among the various wolf clans, and thus found an honorable existence as retainers of the dog clan. 

And even if his retainers did abandon him – and many did, after Inu-taisho's death, some even surviving long enough to find a place in Kouga's clan some hundred or more years afterward – it would not matter still, for the lord was cursed with wanderlust, with questing for knowledge as well as power, seeking out allies both youkai and human, and as age began to claim him, siring an heir with both races. 

It was near the end of Inu-taisho's life that he called in his eldest and most loyal retainer, and at that time Kouga was no more than a cub many ri from Inu-taisho's influence, and his beloved sons were separated and nearly as distant. 

Sesshoumaru, on a long journey of his own, was scouting the furthest reaches of his father's kingdom, ensuring order and obedience, traveling alone, as he saw none in his father's allegiance with enough worth to be in the young lord's presence. Inu-taisho had tried, once, to send him with his two most loyal samurai, but Sesshoumaru slew both over minor (if not imagined) breaches of etiquette within a matter of hours from the main gate. When news reached the castle, the wives and children of these retainers, so distraught and ashamed that their families had offended the young Sesshoumaru, killed themselves immediately. 

Inu-taisho, saddened and angered at his son's impudence, chastised him, removed his right to the lives of his people, and revoked his right to carry a sword – a right he would not reinstill until his death, upon which his servants would assist in Toutousai's work and present Sesshoumaru with his birthright, Tenseiga. 

The look on Sesshoumaru's face when given the katana and realizing it cannot kill – most likely realized after Sesshoumaru, in typical disregard for life, attempted to behead the sword-bearer to test the blade and found it impossible – was something that quietly amused Inu-taisho in his final days. 

Inu-taisho loved his firstborn, of course, but his unrepentantly haughty demeanor was one that begged for mocking, and it was most unfortunate only his father could get away with such a thing. 

His other son was much younger, the hanyou his mother called "Inuyasha." The name was woefully inappropriate, but his mother liked the name so much that he would never correct her. 

She was a good woman, and lived well in the village Inu-taisho secured them, surviving very comfortably on the riches he provided. He visited at times, but those were exceptionally rare, as Sesshoumaru vowed to kill the bastard child that soiled his lineage, a vow that his father could not dissuade with either desperate plea or threat of banishment, torture, and death. Sesshoumaru was so convinced that his father was weakened by his fraternization with humans that he considered such threats madness, and would gladly risk both dishonor and death to wipe his family's line clean of the disease of a half-breed. 

Thus Inu-taisho found his firstborn unreachable on this and many other issues, and rather than choosing one son to protect and one to perish, he kept them separate and secret, and as each child grew strong outside his presence, their father grew weak. 

Of course, this weakness was not well known, not yet. There were rumors, but there were always rumors of one sort or another. Inu-taisho was old, for sure, and like most youkai he was quite mortal. But rumors of decline, of death, of a coup that might wrest the kingdom from its aging Lord - such things were never so much as whispered in this place. And if such things were spoken, Inu-taisho would know, for his closest retainer, personal advisor, and oldest friend, had a tendency to see and hear without being seen and heard. 

Myouga, the flea-youkai, who never carried a blade and yet outclassed any shinobi in terms of stealth, surveillance, and trickery, kneeled politely before the pelt-littered enclave that was Inu-taisho's throne. 

"My Lord," he intoned, "I have come with haste as requested." 

Inu-taisho smiled. "I had no doubt you would. I apologize from calling you from your previous assignment so abruptly, but this matter is quite urgent." 

"No apology is necessary, my Lord. I serve at your pleasure always." 

Inu-taisho acknowledged this with a nod. 

"I have been issued a challenge from a taiyoukai of the mountains, Ryuukotsusei. It is a challenge I must answer, and I expect I shall die in answering it." 

"My Lord," Myouga replied. The words were no more than an acknowledgement, but beneath it was the implied plea that he not cast away his life, the plea Myouga would not dare speak aloud. 

"You may speak at ease," Inu-taisho said, a smile creeping across his lips. "There is no one here to witness you feign fealty to me." 

Myouga lept in the air, waving both pairs of arms in frustration. "My Lord, it is not an act!" 

"The thousand years of bite marks may be hidden by my fur, but that does not mean I forget them, Myouga." 

Myouga sighed, defeated. 

"In that case, I must ask you: why fight this youkai? The mountains hold no treasures, no decent land to farm or trade route to protect. A taiyoukai such as yourself receives so many challenges, and it would be foolish to entertain them regardless of gain or loss." 

Inu-taisho clasped his hands together, glad to see Myouga's over-politeness shed. He was a wise creature, but it sometimes took effort to get him in a place where he would be willing to advise without tainting that advice with empty assurances and honorific nonsense. 

"I am not the young pup I was when we were first met," he said. "I am nearing my nine hundredth year, and already I feel my strength in decline. A creature such as I cannot abide old age, and if I must die in a pointless battle rather than see my rule usurped when my fangs are too dull to fight and my mind too dull to care – well, then I chose a glorious death." 

Myouga fought back a laugh despite his despair. "Your son is so much like you, my Lord." 

Inu-taisho smiled at this. "I suppose you are right." The smile slowly faded. "There is another reason as well. The birthright of my children relies on my death, and I cannot think of a better youkai on which to sharpen my fangs than this Ryuukotsusei." 

"I suppose there is no point in me dissuading you from this," Myouga muttered. "You are asking me to ensure Toutousai completes his work, then?" 

"Such concerns needn't be yours, my friend. My burial, the taking of my fangs, the forging of Tenseiga and Tessaiga, and their deliveries to my children – all arrangements are made. I have called you here to ask you something entirely different, though no less important." He paused, hoping Myouga understood this. "Are you familiar with a bakemono known as Asesu?" 

"The name does seem familiar, my Lord." 

"He is a demon without form, an evil spirit which possesses men and youkai and controls them utterly. In the next century or two, he will seek out my son, Inuyasha. I want you to set out this very day to collect all information you can on this creature, to devise a means to defeat him, and when the day comes, you must ensure Inuyasha's survival." 

"My Lord, surely, he will have Tessaiga by then." 

"The sword and its strength will fail him – in fact, they will only harm him. Only wisdom and knowledge made of twice a man's lifetime of study can defeat such a creature, and so I entrust to this task the wisest and most studious ally I have." 

"Then I will set out the moment you grant my leave, my Lord." 

"There is one last thing, Myouga, and this is most important. There will be a man, a man in black, and he will fall to Asesu. You must let him fall, regardless of who he may be to you at that time." 

Myouga narrowed his eyes. 

"Such detail, my Lord. It is a strange request, and though I shall follow it to the letter, I am anxious to know how you came to know all this." 

"I suppose no answer will satisfy you, not even if I should tell you the things I cannot. I have a companion who holds talent with knowing things that have not yet come to pass. Her prophecies have never turned false, and I trust her when she tells me the danger of this creature, and the best means in which to defeat it." 

"And the man in black?" 

"It is cryptic, I know, but you will understand when you need to understand it. 'Sacrifice the man in black, and he will be saved.' I feel he may be your friend, so it may be difficult, but his death serves a great purpose, greater than Asesu could ever hope to be, and as reward for his sacrifice he will be reborn. This is all I am free to tell you." 

"I will do as you command, my Lord, but I ask you: has she told you of your battle in the mountains?" 

"Wise beyond your many years, Myouga. Yes, she told me I will strike him down, and I will die of my wounds, and in my death I will help ensure a long life for my sons." 

Myouga nodded, trying to hide the hollowness in his voice as he bid his master farewell for the last time. 

"It has been the greatest honor to serve you, my Lord." 

- - - 

The memory was a fond one, the last Myouga saw of his former master, and the flea-youkai thought of it often. Perhaps his Lord thought he might forget if his wish was given at a less important time. Whatever the case, Myouga did not fail him, spending much of the next century split between studies at various monasteries and protector of his old Lord's grave – not knowing, of course, that it was a false one – while taking time every few years to visit Inuyasha and make sure he was well. 

Of course, thanks to Naraku, Myouga failed to protect his new master, and during the 50 years in which Inuyasha was sealed, Myouga abandoned his efforts and spent most of his time at Inu-toshi's false grave. 

But Inuyasha was revived, much to his joy, and in the year since then Myouga had been sure to recollect his writings on Asesu and prepare himself for the day in which he would fight Asesu. 

Today was that day. 

Indeed it hurt to let Miroku die, and Myouga made himself scarce when he realized what would occur, knowing only at the moment Miroku was first possessed that Asesu's time had come, that Miroku was in fact the man who would be sacrificed, and that Myouga would have to leave him to his fate. 

His plan was set the evening Miroku died, and before he was ever buried Myouga set forth to search for the soul-stealers of the miko. It took him days to find her, but the perseverance of a flea-youkai who had seen ages and empires rise and collapse was quite legendary, and he did not despair. 

Now he sat here, in the thick of the mane of Kikyou's horse, taking a well-deserved snack now and then, and he chuckled to himself as he wondered how Inuyasha would react when he realized that his savior was none other than his loyal servant Myouga. Gentle Myouga! Wise Myouga! He thought him cowardly, his master, but what was cowardly in running from battles a youkai cannot fight, while running directly to battles in which he can? 

He was ready. Nearly two hundred years of preparation had made him the perfect warrior, the mind-warrior, who would defeat Asesu, and afterward, seal him. What a human could not do, a human with limited mind and so few years in which to fill it, Myouga would accomplish. 

Today was the flea's day. 

- - - 

She was glad now that she took such a fine steed. She had almost turned it down, for her pride made it difficult to accept the gift from a farmer whose children she nursed from fever. The man told her he had no need for a calvary horse, that a good ox was all he required, but a horse this fine would fetch a half-dozen oxen. 

She surmised it belonged to a daimyo, and perhaps had seen fit to run after its master had fallen in battle, afterward wandering the countryside until it came across a farmer willing to let it partake of his crops. 

As Kikyou reflected on such a possibility, she began to understand the farmer's unwillingness to keep or sell the mount. Clearly it would have been the worst of things to do business with a death-horse. Such a creature would surely lead its next rider into to bad fortune. 

If only the farmer knew how appropriate the steed was for a woman such as she. 

As that thought washed over her, nearly drawing a smile over her enigmatic face, she realized that the flea was talking again. 

"Kikyou-sama, we are very close. My master's scent is only a few hours old on this road." 

A blast of pure dread struck them. The horse spooked, and only through the combined efforts of Myouga speaking into its ear and Kikyou rubbing its neck did the miko prevent herself from being thrown. 

Only after that particular danger had passed did Kikyou address the far greater one. 

"Inuyasha has beome a full youkai, hasn't he?" she asked, her hands still tight on the reins. 

"I'm afraid so, Kikyou-sama." 

Kikyou pulled the clay bottle from inside her kimono. With a gentle finger she beckoned a soul-stealer forward. The snakelike demon, already carrying a soul, deposited the tiny ball of life-energy into the bottle. 

Kikyou kept the bottle in her left hand as she snapped the reins with her right. Myouga gripped tightly to the horse's mane as she leaned forward. The horse raced down the path, nostrils flaring. 

Her voice was determined, severe, and icy. 

"I haven't come all this way to fail." 


	23. Breathe With Me: Part V

**If You Need Her **

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FOUR: BREATHE WITH ME 

V.  
_"I jumped into the river - what did I see?  
Black-eyed fishes swam with me  
A moon full of stars and astral cars  
And all the things I used to see."  
- Radiohead, "Pyramid Song"_

Sango's eyes scanned the woods around them, checking the treeline for enemies, allowing her mind to adjust to this place, to feel its life-force, so that any interruption would be felt immediately, and the presence of any danger would be realized long before she heard or saw it. She was sure the same skill came quite easily to Miroku, though not at this time, with much of his mind lost in the spaces between life and death. But that problem would be solved, and solved this very day. 

She looked at him, saddened by the frustration on his face, the embarrassment of knowing he was helpless, that only her efforts could repair the schism in his mind. For that was his condition, was it not? He was broken, hurt, a piece of his being snapped off and cast to the mists of death, the mists they would forge through together. 

She turned to the pool, marveling at its shape, a circular arrangement of stones that gave way to short grass. The pool was dark, and she could not see its bottom, yet the water appeared clear, with mist clinging to its surface at spots. 

She sensed strength here, and was certain that if Kagome were here, a girl so tuned to the spiritual realm, she would find this place breathtaking. 

Even Sango, whose spiritual abilities were only those borne of necessity in seeking and fighting youkai, found this place immensely calming. There stood no barrier, no crackle of holy energy, no sparkle or lights. But she felt in her gut that there was something special in this place, that it was truly the barrier between worlds, a thin spot where the difference between things mortal and immortal became less clear. __

You will continue this way past the gate of trees, into the grasslands beyond. There you will find the place where this world and the next blur together, the Ametsuchi no Reisen, the Miraculous Spring of Heaven and Earth. There you and Houshi-dono will purify yourselves, and there your journey will begin. 

Houshi-dono's spiritual energy is strong, and upon death his memories were sealed and cast to the spaces between this world and the place of deities. So amazing was this occurrence, and so impressed were the keepers of those places, that the memories were protected, and there they remain. 

Houshi-dono was revived by the healing sword Tenseiga, and his soul returned to him, but his memories cannot return to their own accord – he must seek them out. 

Your role, Taiji-ya-san, is the most important, for it is the combination of your spiritual energies that will allow you to pass through the barrier, and it is you who shall comfort him when his worst memories return to haunt him, for otherwise his despair would lead him to falter. 

At the same time, Taiji-ya-san's memories will return to her, the dark fears she had once forgotten will be relived, and Houshi-dono will do his part to comfort her. 

"Sango?" 

She turned to him. She saw his face pained, conflicted. He thought she was hesitating. 

"Even now, we can turn back," he said. "I am surprised and flattered you would go this far, but even now it is not too late. There may be other ways for me to regain my memories. Even if there are not, I can live without them. They are not worth discarding our friendship for." 

"No," she said. "No, Houshi-sama. I owe it to you. Not the Houshi-sama who stands before me now, but the Houshi-sama who sacrificed his life for me. You are only part of that man. I will do all in my power to make you complete and return your life to you." 

"I would still care for you, and stay with you. I would teach myself the fighting skills I've forgotten. I would do whatever you ask of me." 

"I know you would, Houshi-sama." 

He smiled at this. 

"Then," he said, "I suppose you would want me to blindfold myself." 

She shook her head. 

"Ahead of us is a sort of experience that would make men and wives balk. I can think of nothing more intimate than witnessing your life aside you, and you mine. The thought of us sharing a bath together seems something less than scandalous compared to that." 

"I would not wish to invade your privacy, Sango. I would not wish you to sacrifice your honor and dignity for something so trivial as curing an illness of mine." 

She set down Hiraikotsu with a thud and a sigh. 

Unbuttoning her catsuit, she turned to him. 

"You know, Houshi-sama," she said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I rather like you as a sukebe." Absently, as if she were doing nothing more than scratching an itch, she pulled open her taiji-ya uniform. "Your mindless groping was far more tolerable than your mindless attempts to venerate me, and if I had to choose, I'd rather have you grabbing my ass than kissing my feet." 

He frowned at this, or tried to frown at the insult, but now the flap of her uniform hung over her chest, and clearly there was enough of the Miroku she knew standing before her that he found it impossible to argue with cleavage, so rather than apologizing or disagreeing, he simply nodded and unfastened the knot to his kesa. 

She piled her armor beside her, at the edge of the pool, and atop that she folded the skintight suit she wore beneath. Almost as an afterthought, she unfastened her ponytail and let her hair down. 

She turned. 

Miroku was already undressed, and stood patiently with his back toward him. She blushed as she took in his form, studying the line of his back, the definition of his legs, and the curve of his bottom. 

The desire to grope him came suddenly, but was quickly and quietly suppressed. 

"You can turn around now, Houshi-sama." 

A pause. His right hand made a fist, and her eyes were drawn to the muscles that trembled beneath the skin of his forearm. 

"I would rather not, Sango," he said. 

"Houshi-sama?" 

"Forgive me, Sango, but though you may be comfortable with the situation, I am not." He lifted his head, still turned away from her, but his voice lightened. "To see your unveiled beauty is a thing I hope to wait for, to keep a gift until the day – that is, if the day ever comes – that we shall know each other as man and woman. This day, my eyes are unworthy, and my mind is unprepared." 

She blushed, turning away, embarrassed. 

"I am not accustomed to this," she whispered. "To be the impure one. The lecherous one. If I had known, Houshi-sama, how it feels . . ." She shook her head, clasping a hand over her burning face, " . . . to find my desire . . . not met, and turned away." 

His voice was strong, and she could see him turn ever-so-slightly to her, no doubt taking in her vague shape out the corner of one eye. 

"Your desire is met, Sango, met and exceeded to levels you cannot imagine. So much so that I cannot possibly gaze upon you and control myself. I do not want to lose control. Not here. Not now." 

"Not now," she echoed. 

"But someday, if Sango wishes it." 

She smiled. "She does indeed." 

"Then we understand each other?" he asked. 

"We do." 

With that she lowered herself into the pool and turned her eyes away, affording him the same dignity she did him. And she did understand – a forced intimacy was no intimacy at all; a marital consummation without surprise and novelty and excitement was something less real. She wanted all of him then, every last bit, and a taste beforehand would simply not do. 

She turned to him after hearing the soft splash, and watched him watching her, the mists curled around them, the water up to their shoulders, his hair unbound like hers, obscuring his cheeks but not his eyes, and the blue orbs pierced her as he smiled enigmatically. Doubtlessly, she did the same. 

The water was soothing and warm, smelling not of sulfur but of soft rain and endless summer, of earth and cloudless sky. The tiny waves they made went back and forth between them, rhythmic as a heartbeat. 

She closed her eyes. 

She wasn't sure how much time passed – it seemed less than a second – but when she looked back to him, she found she was alone. 

"Houshi-sama!" 

She dove across the pool, but as she waved her arms back and forth through the waters where he had been, she realized he was gone. 

She drew a breath and dove down, feet kicking furiously, and she could see the pool was a well, a terribly deep well, and there was a current drawing both of them deeper and deeper. She could see him now, eyes half-lidded, arms spread, one hand reaching out toward her. 

Precious seconds passed. The distance began to close, but already she must have been dozens of feet below the water, and she waited with grim certainty for her eardrums to burst. 

The breath in her chest grew stale, and though her body tried its best to wrest control, to turn back for air, she pushed herself still harder, letting small bursts of bubbles between pursed lips and clenched teeth. Death was painful, and drowning was among the worst ways to go about it, but she had been buried before, and she had buried Miroku before, and given the choice she would rather taste earth than taste the agony of losing him again. 

Fish swam before her eyes, fish that looked and shone like stars, and when her lungs gave up hope for oxygen they settled for whatever was there. She sucked in water and the pain was exquisite, but it was fair payment for the sensation of his hand gripping hers, and as her fingers traced desperate paths over his wrist she realized this was indeed a good way to die, and she did not despair because she knew that love conquers death, not because it is stronger but because _love simply does not care_, and she knew Naraku did not understand and could never understand, and that ignorance would be his downfall. 

All became dark, and Sango smiled. 

Chapter written 3 February 2004


	24. Breathe With Me: Part VI

**If You Need Her **

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FOUR: BREATHE WITH ME 

VI.  
_"Addicted to love?  
I'm addicted to fools.  
I kill you once  
And I kill you again  
We're starving and crude  
Welcome my friend  
To the little things that kill."  
- Bush, "Little Things"  
_

Sesshoumaru stood defiantly, for he knew no other stance. 

_Damn him._

Sesshoumaru, Lord of the Western Lands, the last of the inu-youkai clan, the most feared and dreaded tai-youkai in all these domains, stood resolutely before the disgusting bastard child of the union between his beloved father and some human whore of no consequence. Hanyou he was, hanyou he was even now, despite outward appearances. His youkai blood fueled him temporarily, but it was a blood fever, a madness, and when he wandered off this battlefield he would still lack the intelligence to comprehend victory. Should he not recover from this condition, he would surely die as his hanyou body was torn apart by his own youki. 

Inuyasha had taken his left arm in their first altercation with Tessaiga, and the missing limb was a constant reminder to him of the folly of underestimating his enemy, even a hanyou such as his brother. He remained an excellent swordsman with his right hand, and the sword cast of oni's teeth, the demon-blade Toukijin that could slice an enemy with merely the force of air thrown from its tip, the only weapon that could possibly break Tetsusaiga, had served him well until this day. 

This day, it failed him. The blood which poured from his empty right hand spilled from his fingers like a five-pointed fountain, forming a pool of dark brown mud in the dirt, made testament to that. His sword lay far beyond his reach, and in the confusion he had even been unable to locate the sound of its landing. 

He had thought Toukijin could dissipate the Kaze no Kizu. Had it not been for Inuyasha's youki fueling his swing, he may have been correct. But he had underestimated his brother yet again, and this time it had cost him his sword and the use of his other arm. 

Experimentally, he made a fist. Grimaced. His hand was broken, that was certain. Perhaps his arm as well. Hard to tell. He was a youkai, though, and this would heal quickly. Perhaps a matter of hours. 

Of course, he did not have hours. He had his brother not a hundred paces before him, reveling in the older youkai's indignity. He had Rin, who lay beside him, across the kitsune and girl that once followed his brother. 

He had Tenseiga, the healing sword. 

He had enough strength in his arm to draw a blade, but there was no certainty as to how long he could weild it. 

_With Toujijin lost, Tenseiga is the only thing that can stand up to Tessaiga. The blade cannot cut, but it can surely block my brother's sword, as it too is made of the fang of our father. _

It is enough to parry Tessaiga, for all I need is to get close enough to Inuyasha to prevent him from striking Kaze no Kizu. In close combat it shouldn't be difficult to disarm him, and without his weapon he is quite manageable, even in blood-rage. 

Sesshoumaru drew the blade, the healing sword, and charged Inuyasha with the blade aside him, ready to swing upward and cleave Inuyasha hip to shoulder, knowing the Tessaiga would simply pass through if he connected, knowing his brother would block it regardless. 

But as the distance closed, Sesshoumaru could see the youki flow around the Tessaiga and know he was preparing something different than before. Sesshoumaru felt the same oddly overwhelming sensation he felt when he first surveyed the final resting place of Ryuukotsusei. 

"Bakuryuuha!" Inuyasha cried out, bringing the sword down. Sesshoumaru found himself marveling at the feeling of his own youki becoming strange, and realized that if he had only known the Kaze no Kizu was only a prelude to this, the true power of his brother's precious sword, he would have put ten times the effort he had used in hunting for the weapon, the thing that should have been his birthright. 

_You stupid bastard-child Inuyasha! Look at your deeds and I dare you call me heartless. I kill for need. I kill for convenience. But never have I killed with anger, or with madness. Your youkai-rages make you a greater threat to your own friends than I ever was. _

Damn you for distracting me. 

Damn you for getting between me and the girl. 

Damn you for letting Rin die. 

Sesshoumaru brought Tenseiga above his head as Inuyasha brought Tessaiga down. 

The Bakuryuuha struck Tenseiga with overwhelming force, yet Sesshoumaru's hand remained steady. Waves of youki became deadly funnels, tearing apart the ground around them, but as each one struck Tenseiga it was drawn in, and in a matter of seconds the attack was totally absorbed by Tenseiga. 

The healing sword throbbed, and in a terrific explosion the absorbed attack was released as healing energy, and Sesshoumaru found himself very nearly smiling – the closest he had come to smiling in recent memory, in any case – as things like stars, like spirits, like flowers and trees, fire and water, land and sea, all burst forth from Tessaiga in brilliant translucent shapes and colors that encompassed the entire forest. 

The ground about his feet exploded in wildflowers, and Sesshoumaru had his first taste of his sword's ultimate strength. 

- - -

Kikyou stood at the edge of the woods, surveying the battle with calm, cold eyes. Both Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru seemed too occupied to notice her, but that would change very soon. 

Raising her bow, she nocked the arrow Myouga had scribbled over with his tiny incantations. Her hama no ya would have worked well enough to seal Inuyasha, she thought, but it was possible that while in full youkai form her sealing arrows would either be ineffective or kill him outright. Further, Myouga seemed to suggest not all the spells infused on the arrow's shaft were to paralyze Inuyasha – some might be preparation for the flea's battle against Asesu. 

Sesshoumaru rushed Inuyasha, and sensing her opportunity, she drew back the arrow. 

The blades clashed, and Kikyou was frozen as wave after wave of healing energy flowed around her. 

She felt her porcelain skin become soft. She felt the sensation of a warmth in her chest. 

_My heartbeat?_

It had been fifty years since she had felt such a thing. 

Fifty years ago, she was betrayed, the sacred jewel entrusted to her protection, the Shikon no Tama, stolen from her. Fifty years ago, the claw raked up her back and over her shoulder. Fifty years ago she stood with arrow aimed at Inuyasha, her thumb and forefinger pinching the tail so tightly her nails were broken, a flap of skin hanging loosely beneath her kimono like a third breast, the blood pouring down her chest and back, sticking her clothes to her flesh, running down one leg and staining her white tabi sock a dark red. 

Fifty years ago, her heart became still, she called his name, let fly her arrow, and ensured his fall. 

Fifty years ago, she was alive. 

"Kikyou-sama!" 

The flea-youkai on her shoulder urged her on, knowing this distraction would not last, and that soon Inuyasha would notice them. 

_Damned insect. You can't understand. No one who lives can ever understand._

The aura around her faded, her skin was again cold, her heartbeat faded away. She died there, died beneath the same moon as before, and it was the same goddamned place, the same time, the same world, and she called his name with all the rage of a vengeful spirit, and as he turned to her, she struck him down. 

The same hit, the same grunt, though what fell from his hand was not the Shikon no Tama but the suddenly untransformed Tessaiga, and he stared at her with something akin to astonishment, falling backward on the ground before Sesshoumaru's feet. 

Chapter written 3 February 2004


	25. Breathe With Me: Part VII

**If You Need Her **

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FOUR: BREATHE WITH ME 

VII.  
_"Life is a mystery  
Everyone must stand alone  
I hear you call my name  
And it feels like . . . home."  
Madonna, "Like a Prayer"  
_

"Chichi-ue! Chichi-ue!" 

The violent waves of the unleashed Kazaana ripped at the young boy's clothes, yet he ran into the hell-winds without reason or fear, and would have been drawn in himself but for Mushin's arms around his body. 

"No, Miroku! Go no farther, lest you be drawn in as well!" 

"Let me go, Oushou-sama!" he cried, clawing at the monk's arm, his eyes wide and mad like a cornered animal. He loved his father, his only family, and would rather die than be alone. 

And yet, even as Miroku tried to sink his teeth into the monk's arm to break his grip, it was done. With a rending crash, his father's Kazaana was drawn into itself and the winds abated, leaving a wide crater in the field before them. 

Miroku fell to his knees, dimly aware of Mushin grabbing his right wrist tightly and wrapping a rosary around it, one very similar to his father's. And as the boy cried his first tears as an orphan, an odd sensation came over him: the feeling of a young woman before him, pale, naked, indescribably beautiful. The apparition placed a hand on his cheek, and her warmth was reassuring, not drying the tears, but lessening their sting, and as she leaned toward him and whispered words soft and reassuring into his ear, he realized that this moment too shall pass, as all moments do, and that he would be happy again. 

Miroku opened his eyes, seeing no one, but still he felt the hands on his shoulders, could smell the perfume, and as he looked down to the crater that was his father's grave, could feel a soft kiss on his forehead. 

"Remember this," the voice said. "Remember that terrible things are always followed by wonderful things. Know this, and be at peace." 

The presence faded away at that instant, but the warmth did not leave him, and as Miroku wiped the last tears from his eyes he found much of his sadness gone, replaced with the grim determination once receives upon setting out upon a difficult journey. 

He turned to Mushin, who stared at the boy with neither love nor hate, but a kind understanding and realization that the boy he had helped raise had just then been thrown into manhood. 

"I am done with the Classics," Miroku said. "I am done with the I Ching and the codes of conduct. Teach me how to fight, Oshou-sama." He raised his fist in the air, and his face betrayed the pain as the Kazaana began to tear at the flesh and assert its place on his palm. "Teach me all you know so that Naraku's curse ends with me." 

- - - 

There was nothing, nothing but blackness, and then there was death, the smell, the taste, the dirt in her face, her mouth, her nostrils caked with it, the worms that crawled over her flesh, the crushing weight of earth over her chest. __

Kohaku. Father. 

We are dead. 

The dirt yielded, very slightly, as she pushed against it. She was buried; her grave was shallow. She need only claw at the weight above and it would break, and she would taste air and sky. 

But she was alone now. A taiji-ya did not fight alone. Even if she lived, it would be only to avenge her clan. Then she must kill herself, like a samurai, and thus her honor would be preserved. 

But she was no samurai; the bushido held no sway over her. Better to die now. Much easier. 

And even as she resigned herself to this, and made the ache of suffocation in her breast quiet itself, she felt strong hands at her shoulders, shaking her, and a loud voice, a man's voice, cool and soothing, yet also strong, and deep, and urgent. The voice persuaded her, assured her that her brother still lived, that she must fight the darkness and reclaim her life, for Kohaku's sake. It urged her to fight on, to turn her sadness into rage, to make that rage her weapon, her ally. The voice urged her to fight on, for she would not wait long before she again knew family, and knew love. 

But Sango did not want these things. She wanted her own family. She was not a huntress. She was a scared little girl who wanted her father. She was Sango, with a scraped knee that hurt and hurt and never stopped hurting. She was Sango, who loved her little brother. She was Sango, who played gently with Kirara's paws and wondered idly if she would ever see a truly scary youkai, the type that was powerful enough to change his appearance and look almost human. 

And then, only seconds from slipping back to the void, she felt the warmth over her, a body lying atop her own, a male body, his naked chest pressed against hers, his hands at her shoulders, squeezing, then moving down, down. 

She gasped, unable to comprehend how here, as she lay dying, she would be visited by a ghost of a sukebe, who would embrace her and then grab her bottom! But in gasping her mouth opened, and she felt the ghostly lips upon hers, warm lips, and she could taste him, taste his breath, and that breath filled her lungs, filled her with strength. 

She felt his hair brush her face, felt his mouth move to her ear, and the voice was again strong and urgent. 

"You are not a little girl, Sango. You are a woman. And more than that: you are a youkai taiji-ya!" __

I am a taiji-ya. 

She pushed against the dirt. 

"Arise, Sango, and claim your destiny!" __

I will claim what is mine! 

Sango broke free of the grave, and though she could barely move, could only cough and gag at the filth in her throat, woe be unto any man or youkai or hanyou that attempted to detain her from her vengeance. 

- - - 

Sango dodged Inuyasha, but he was too fast for her, and she had greatly underestimated his skill. Her eyes were twisted in rage and hate and pain, but when Inuyasha swiped the mask off her face and exposed her to the smoke of her own smoke bombs, Miroku saw her face fully and thought she was the must beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

- - - 

The swirl of clouds surrounded them. Sango leaned against his shoulder, and Miroku's arm was protectively around her. 

How many memories had they shared? Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. She had viewed his entire lifetime, and he hers. How much time had passed? She didn't know, but surely it was a lifetime or more. She was exhausted, could feel the sweat of both exertion and fear on her skin. 

"What more can be left?" she asked softly. 

"I'm not sure," Miroku answered. "I think I remember everything now. The feeling of apprehension before, of lost memories – all gone. I remember you, my friends, my father, my past. I can't imagine what more there can be." 

"Houshi-sama," she whispered, gesturing to his left hand. 

From nowhere his shakujou appeared, fitting comfortably in his hand. And yet it was not his shakujou, for it lacked the six rings and was encrusted with jewels, and the sharp ornament atop it was a gilt blade, making the weapon not a staff but an oddly-balanced yet exquisite spear. 

Wordlessly, he turned the spear point-down and stirred it into the mist below their feet. 

Sand appeared beneath them, and the mists began to swirl about the sandbar on which they now stood. Now the mists disappeared completely, and above was the blue-grey sky, and all around was ocean, boundless ocean, and the seas were perfectly calm. 

The sandbar grew and the seas receded, and then grass sprang forth, trees grew about them, and in a matter of seconds they stood on a beachhead on the boundary of a lush forest. 

Miroku and Sango turned this way and that, eyes and mouths wide at the miracle about them, transfixed by the beauty of this island. 

Then they turned back to each other. 

She stared at him, disturbed by the way he looked at her, for he was Miroku and he was not Miroku, and the curiosity in his demeanor that he usually kept so closely guarded was quite clear in his face. 

He leaned close, and she suddenly became increasingly aware of their nudity, and her breath caught as he extended one hand to cup her face. 

"Izanami," he addressed her, brushing gentle fingers on her cheek. 

Her hand covered his, and it was Sango's voice and yet not Sango's voice that replied to him. 

"Izanagi," she sighed. 

- - - 

There was something different. Something in the air. She couldn't say for certain – perhaps the sun shone clearer, the flowers grew brighter, the wind blew more gently. 

Whatever it was, she knew the entire world still breathed its sigh of relief, even though it had been nearly two weeks since Naraku was wiped entirely from the earth, and the Shikon no Tama was purified, the war inside the jewel ended, and the final blow cast by Midoriko-dono was cast, a strike powerful enough to destroy the jewel and all the evil that sought to corrupt it. 

"We are home, Ane-ue." 

She turned to her brother, who held a look of nervous apprehension. He knew what had happened in the village, and though she had spent so many days talking to him, holding him, reviving the pure soul that had been all but trampled into the dust by Naraku's control, his resolve tended to waver. 

"I should warn you for what you are about to see, Kohaku." The young taiji-ya nervously brushed a hand through her bangs. "There are graves, dozens of them, and as you can see the front gates broken, so are many of the homes. But we will rebuild them, Kohaku, and soon the word will spread that there is a new village chief, and this place will again be sought after by those who wish to learn our fighting techniques." She smiled, bringing a hand to her brother's shoulder. "The people will come, and they will live here. We will not be alone for long." 

He nodded. 

Together the passed the gate. 

"But the two of us, Ane-ue? Is that enough?" 

Sango winced, remembering the man who had stayed by her side every moment, who had taken his share of injuries from Naraku, and hers as well. The man who bled for her, nearly died for her, and who, unnoticed, had slipped away like a spirit when the task they pursued together was done. 

She had been so occupied with her brother that it had taken her nearly a week to notice him missing. Only then did she ask Kaede where the monk had gone, and only then did the woman assure her that Houshi-sama was well, and left in good spirits some days before, no doubt with business to attend to regarding the death of Naraku. After all, it was his family that was the most dedicated to destroying the creature, so it was not unlikely there was some ceremony Miroku must perform to announce his victory to his ancestors. 

Still, she had forgotten her betrothed, allowed him to wait patiently in the shadows as she held her brother and spoke to him of their past, allowed herself to forget him for a time. Such insult could not be excused. She should have introduced him immediately to Kohaku, as the man that would become his brother. 

"The two of us will be enough, Kohaku." 

Sango shook her head sadly. __

We'll just have to be. 

The graves were as she last saw them, though spring and summer had left its mark, and many of the mounds were sprouting thick grass. The corpses of youkai were long since carried away, but the broken homes were no different. 

Except for one. 

"Ane-ue?" Kohaku whispered. 

One single hut was unlike all the others – that of the village chief. 

Her home. 

Their home. 

"Nan da yo?" she breathed. 

The roof was patched. The broken posts that supported it were replaced. The walls that were once gouged with tooth and claw were entirely repaired. 

A breeze lifted her hair, bringing to her nose the scent of boiling rice and burning incense, the latter of which tinged with a variety of smells that identified one man and no other. 

She grinned with excitement, suppressing a childish giggle, but just barely. 

She dashed to the entryway, stopping short on the genkan, and her heart nearly burst from her chest as she saw him kneeling before the smoldering fire-pit, a pile of carpentry tools beside him, his arms and legs glistening with sweat, his hair unbound, his body naked save a loincloth. 

His eyes rose to her, and they spoke of both surprise and excitement. He hadn't expected her to return so soon, and the pieces of lumber and piles of dust around him made it clear his work was yet to be finished. 

"Sango," he said, standing. She had never seen him so undressed before, and yet he showed no discomfort whatsoever. 

"I apologize for my appearance. I had hoped your journey would take a few more days, but I am glad to see you again. And you, Kohaku, I hope you are well." 

Kohaku nodded. 

Sango was blushing now. 

"Kohaku," she said, "Houshi-sama and I must discuss some things. Will you leave us alone for a few hours?" 

Kohaku blushed. "Ane-ue?" 

"_Kohaku._" 

"Mm!" He bowed quickly and turned, the sound of his footfalls on the packed dirt soft but hurried. 

Sango tugged at the cord that hung above her head, allowing the flap of tamati to roll down and cover the entryway behind her. 

"Sango?" His voice was apprehensive. He most likely felt he was nearing the sort of behavior that would lead to being struck with Hiraikotsu. 

He was not far off. 

She unstrapped the weapon from her back, laying it beside the doorway. Beside it she left her traveling pack and her sandals. 

She stepped onto the raised flooring, avoiding the few broken boards here and there, and approached him. 

"Houshi-sama," she said. 

He raised an eyebrow. 

"Miroku," she whispered, correcting herself. "My husband." 

He smiled, bringing a hand to her cheek. "Sango. My beloved, my wife." 

He sighed, smiling deeply. 

"My only." 

She moaned quietly against his touch, kissing the thumb that dragged across her lips. 

"Tell me the tradition in your village for marriage, and I will see it done this very day." 

"Ours is a simple tradition," Sango said quietly. "First the man must seek approval of the father of his bride-to-be." She closed her eyes, but not even thought of her father's death could taint this moment. "You gained that long ago, the moment you entered this village and ensured the burial rites of all my people, without any reason at all save your kindness and pity." 

Miroku shook his head. "It was my duty to do so." 

"It is a duty few monks would see to these days." 

"Sadly, that is true, Sango." His hand slid behind her neck, pulling her closer. She obliged, pressing her body against his, laying her hands complacently on his naked chest. 

"And next?" 

"The husband to be must build a home for his woman, and she must approve of it." 

"And does she approve?" 

"She does." 

His hands took an assertive position at her waist, holding her to him, and she wondered vaguely how long he could avoid the temptation to move lower. 

"And after that," she said, "there is one last thing." 

"And what is that?" 

"He must promise to be her husband, to keep her well and safe, and to love no other. And she must call him husband, and swear to love him and seek no other man." 

"It seems these things are done." 

"So they are. And so I pity you." 

"Nani?" 

She grinned, eyes sparkling with something devilish. 

"A female taiji-ya is to be feared both on the battlefield and on the matrimonial bed, Houshi-sama. Or did you not know that?" 

With a gasp of surprise, he felt his legs hooked out from under him, and he landed heavily on the futon behind them. 

- - - 

The fire-pit was forgotten, and its untended ashes grew cold, the afternoon sun made its way across the sky, and the rays of gold caught the dust that pirouetted lazily throughout the room. 

She was hot, and even now, as he felt the bedding beneath his back soaked with sweat, her light breath against his neck burned him, burned him like the marks on his back where her fingernails clawed him, burned like the muscles that ached from trying to satisfy her, from forcing him to positions and levels of endurance never before asked of him, burned like her body which took him in and did not let go until she was brought to that place, and throughout it all she held his face, kept her eyes upon him, and smiled when passion met resilience, and he cried her name with his face against her neck when he spent himself. 

Now she was beside him. 

Now she would always be beside him. 

His wife. 

His love. 

His all. 

He sighed, studying the roof again, lamenting this moment, the moment of realization. 

Feeling his discontent, or perhaps simply his breathing, she opened one eye, tilting her head slightly to move her bangs out of the way. 

"Hm?" she asked. 

He reached over to her, pressed a hand to her face, and she closed her eyes as he playfully traced the bridge of her nose with his thumb. 

Opening her eyes again, she smiled, though somewhat grimly. 

"You realized it too, didn't you?" 

"Sango?" 

"This place. It isn't real. I could tell by the way you looked at the roof. You tried to remember working on it, and you couldn't, could you?" 

He nodded slowly. 

"It was the same with me and Kohaku," she said. "Just a few moments ago, I tried to remember talking to him, and I simply couldn't recall anything before today. Because it didn't happen, did it?" 

"We are still in the Ametsuchi no Reisen, it seems," Miroku said. "The ritual of Izanagi and Izanami is complete." 

"Then I must be pregnant. We will return to the world, and Naraku will still live, and I will be pregnant." 

His hand brushed against her belly. 

"The gods would not give us a burden that we could not bear, Sango." 

"You're not worried, Houshi-sama?" 

His eyes shone, but there was worry behind them. 

"When we awake, things will be different. Things that happen in the spirit realm do not always transfer directly to the world in which we reside." 

Her fingers traced a line across his chest, hand settling against his neck. 

"Do you fear that I would not love you when we awake, Houshi-sama?" 

He smiled, and he answered with his arms, drawing her toward him, and he answered with his lips, tasting her mouth again as if it were the first time, or the last time, and he did not close his eyes because he loved to see her blush, and behind her was the thatched roof that Miroku had never repaired, the sun passing through holes bigger than his open hands, and the wisps of clouds were frozen in time, and the sky was low. 

But not quite low enough to touch. 

Not even hardly. 

Chapter completed 9 March 2004


	26. Fourth Interlude: Asesu Reprise

**If You Need Her **

By Scribe Figaro 

FOURTH INTERLUDE: ASESU (REPRISE) 

He viewed Inuyasha's mind as a forest. Dark. Green. Dangerous. The grass was tall and the trees were high. Asesu was confused, for he did not understand how a creature like Inuyasha, lacking the spiritual energy of the houshi, could tarry him in exactly the same manner. 

Inuyasha stood before Asesu, breathing heavily. Asesu had wisely taken the form of the oddly-dressed miko that he had so greatly feared. 

"Kagome?" 

Inuyasha's voice was high, desperate. He'd believe anything, anything that negated the bloodbath he had just witnessed. 

"It's not her," said another voice, this one gruff and certain. Both turned to see another Inuyasha, this one with sharper claws, streaks across his cheeks, and eyes blood-red. 

_I see now_, Asesu realized. _This is a place where Inuyasha's hanyou and youkai sides battle each other._

The youkai Inuyasha crossed his arms. "And even if it was her, it wouldn't matter. She makes you weak. She makes _me_ weak. You're better off without her. She screws with us all the time. She doesn't respect us. She uses that spell just to piss us off." He smiled, revealing glistening fangs. "She's a cruel, petty, worthless little human, and I'll show you how strong we can be without her." 

The youkai Inuyasha advanced on Asesu-Kagome, but couldn't get anywhere near him/her before the hanyou Inuyasha intercepted, bringing a claw to rake across the youkai's back. The youkai turned, grinning with fangs longer and sharper than his opponent, and turned, blocking the strike by catching the hanyou's wrist with one hand. In the same fluid motion, the youkai slammed his fist into his enemy's gut. A sickening crunch echoed throughout the clearing, and the hanyou went flying, striking a tree dead-on with his back. The tree splintered and leaned dangerously as the hanyou fell against the trunk, head lolled to one side. 

Asesu-Kagome turned and ran. He took some relief at the sounds of fists and claws on flesh, knowing he was forgotten at the moment. Asesu-Kagome leapt over a fallen log and leaned his back against it. 

He clenched his/her fists to his/her sides and thought aloud through clenched teeth. 

"This battleground was not made for me. It is as old as this hanyou's mind. I need a better plan; there's no chance of success fighting him directly." 

A hand touched his/her shoulder. 

Asesu-Kagome nearly jumped, but luckily did not cry out. Not loudly, at least. 

"Be quiet," the hand's possessor urgently hissed. 

Now Asesu realized there was a young man with dark hair beside him, his knees drawn to his chest and his eyes red with tears. 

"If you're quiet, they won't hear you, and maybe you'll survive. He just wants to be in charge for a while. Let him." 

He rubbed his face with one sleeve, and turning toward Asesu-Kagome, recognized the look of confusion on his/her face. 

"I'm sorry, I should introduce myself. My name's Inuyasha. I'm human, like you." 

"I am not human," Asesu-Kagome growled. 

"I know, but you're familiar with humans. You possess them, make them do bad things sometimes. You're like the other one, aren't you? You hurt people because you're sad. Because you can't feel the same things they do." 

Aesesu-Kagome shook his head. "Look, I'm not in the mood right now. Just leave me alone so I can think here." 

"I'm sorry." 

Inuyasha clasped his hands together. 

"You know, there's food here. Maybe you'll be able to think better with food. Would you like me to find you some fruit or something?" 

Asesu stared with a mixture of unparalleled disdain and inexplicable curiosity. He told himself things, that the residual essence of Kagome made him trust Inuyasha. He told himself that this weak form of Inuyasha must know some great technique if he was able to survive the other Inuyashas, and that befriending it would be prudent. 

But deeper, in the recesses of Asesu's heart, he realized that there was a feeling this Inuyasha instilled in him he had not felt for any human he had possessed or harmed in the past five thousand years. 

He felt something dangerously close to pity for Inuyasha. 

"Yes," Asesu said softly. "Yes, I would appreciate that." 

The human Inuyasha seemed pleased by this. He smiled, poked his head over the log they were hiding under to check that the way was clear, and then quietly dashed away. 

Asesu waited only a minute before a terrible sinking feeling came over him. He spun around, feeling for certain that youkai Inuyasha had subdued the other manifestations of his psyche, and was now racing toward him like a berzerker. 

Inuyasha's eternal battle in his mind made these manifestations strong. Even now, Asesu was not able to assume their appearances, and had settled, for the moment, for the guise of the taiji-ya. Asesu felt he could wield Hiraikotsu well enough to keep youkai Inuyasha at bay, but if he managed to manifest the damned sword, the battle would not last long. 

But as Asesu turned around, he beheld an entirely different forest. The grass was silver, as were the leafless trees that rose up and curled backward, far from view. 

A strange sensation in his arms prompted him to bring his hands before his face, whereupon he realized the source of the sensation was the feeling of having four of them, each with claws rather than fingers. 

"What in the hell is going on here?" 

He turned back again, and there was a flea-youkai, bedecked in a formal kimono and haori. Asesu realized now, that he had been distracted and somehow had been drawn into another mind, the mind of a flea-youkai, and in his confusion, he had unwittingly taken on the flea-youkai's form. 

"What is happening here," the flea-youkai said, "is that Inuyasha has been struck by a sealing arrow, one imbued with a couple extra spells I've picked up over the years. In doing so, he was brought close enough to death that you were thrown out of his body. At that same instant, I drew Inuyasha's blood, and made you a prisoner in my mind." 

"A prisoner?" Asesu echoed. His surprise melted away, replaced by amusement, and he laughed curtly. He, Asesu, the Thief of Lives, held prisoner? Absurd! 

The flea-youkai ignored him. Underneath one of his arms was a square wooden board gridded with black ink. 

"Go," he said, holding the board before him. "A game that takes a minute to learn and a lifetime to master, as all good games should. I have not lost a game in over two hundred years." 

He set the board down before him, placed a small sack of what sounded like pebbles on his side of the board and another the opposite side, and then kneeled down, one set of hands on his knees and the other opening the bags and curling the cloth downward, revealing the pool of white stone pieces on his side and black on Asesu's side. 

The flea-youkai looked upward and regarded Asesu sternly. 

"I, Myouga, servant to Inuyasha-sama, challenge you." 

Asesu reluctantly sat on his side of the board. Not counting the young girl Rin, this would be the third time in a row a host had issued a challenge to Asesu, and the trend was beginning to upset him. 

Myouga smiled as he laid his first piece. 

"I figure it's about damned time you played a game with someone your own age." 

Asesu had never played the game, but he had possessed samurai and shoguns who were masters of the game, and as their skills and memories were taken by Asesu they remained part of him, in belief they would serve him some day. Myouga was facing the embodiment of some of the greatest humans to ever play the game. 

Though they played for nearly an hour, it was not until the very last piece was laid – a capture of three of Asesu's pieces – that it became clear who was winning. 

Asesu could not capture another piece, and thus was forced to pass. Myouga could not capture another piece either. The game was ended. 

Between them the score was clear. Neither had needed to count – both kept a tally of captured pieces, and Myouga now had two more than Asesu. 

Asesu had lost. For the first time in his prolonged existence, Asesu lost to a youkai. 

"Impossible!" Asesu shouted, kicking the board aside. "I have the skill of Nikkai, of a dozen Nichiren monks!" 

"You had no chance against over five hundred years of personal experience," said Myouga. "I was toying with you the entire time. Begone from me." 

This arrogance was too much to bear, and Asesu roared, leaping at Myouga to impale him upon his sharp youkai-flea beak. While in mid-air, Myouga, the upset Go board, and the strange ground on which they played suddenly flew fast away, as if some powerful force had taken Asesu by the collar and was ripping him away at terrific speed. 

For a moment there, just a moment, Asesu feared he had finally been caught.

* * *

Author's Notes: Hooray for four months' of writer's block! 

There were at least a dozen directions for me to go after Chapter 25, and I finally decided to cut the session short there and dedicate one last Session to wrapping up the story. The problem was figuring out how to resolve the huge mess of plot points, and still make sure things stay interesting to the very end. Hopefully I succeeded, but time will tell. 

I'm thinking . . . five more chapters before I can lead this thing home. Maybe. I've got two more chapters almost ready to go, and I'll try to put them up as soon as I can. 

Thanks for all your support, everyone. I wish I had time to respond to everyone (it's not like I get much fan mail, just that I don't have much time to respond to the little bit I do get) and I apologize if you wanted a reply and didn't get one. I promise that I read everything, and I try to answer as many questions as I can. 

I also wanted to give extra-special thanks to Spectrum and Aamalie, for giving me way, way too many excellent reviews, some of which brought me dangerously close to blushing. And I of course can't forget the intelligent, talented, witty, oh-my-God-she-wrote-me-another-Email goddess of artistic acumen, Mikaila, who – for reasons beyond my comprehension – actually made a mind-blowing piece of art for this lowly little piece of fanfiction. I strongly suggest you go see it, and after drooling vigorously at the rest of her work, praise her like Automatic Praising Machines on Praising Day. Here, you can borrow this pillow I use when I fall to my knees and worship her. ;-) 

Anyway, it's a safe bet that I'd not nearly put as much thought into this story were it not for the dozens of reviews I keep getting. A lot of times, you guys remind me of mistakes I made, or plot points I might otherwise have forgotten, and I know I'd never keep my interest in such a lengthy piece of fanfiction without you people bugging me all the time. Thanks again! 

-Scribe 

Chapter completed 11 July 2004


	27. Go Home: Part I

If You Need Her 

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FIVE: GO HOME 

_

"You can't believe it, but it's true.  
She's given everything to you.  
Now, take a moment to be sure  
Before you give it all to her."  
- Barenaked Ladies, "Go Home"  


_

**I.**

If she had to choose one thing, one thing in all the Universe she could not live without – or, to put it another way, the one thing she would most miss if stricken from Heaven and Earth – it would be the Chinese bellflower. How beautiful in shape and color! How humbling and tragic the curves of its buds! They faced heaven, they faced earth, and always the blossoms appeared like women on the verge of crying. 

The girl in pink robes, kneeling quietly in the garden, traced dainty fingers along the cup of the flower. 

The night air was warm, and the breeze felt much like her own breath. 

He made no attempt to sneak up on her. Had he tried, he would not have succeeded, for this was her place, and all things served her here. The well was built on a holy place, as was the small hut in which she lived, and the pure energy that surrounded it was stronger than any priest or monk could ever make. 

She turned at the man who approached her. No, not a man this time. A youkai. She was somewhat surprised, but did not show it. 

She guessed him to be an inu-youkai, and an especially powerful one. Rather young, perhaps, but stately, and – she had to admit to herself – rather attractive. His features were sharp, his amber eyes clear, his hair expertly dressed, his clothes and armor clean and well-arrayed. 

In another place, perhaps he could have fooled her. This was something she would think of often, but it was no sense dwelling on such an issue, because it was not another place. It was this place, her home on Earth, her sacred resting place, as pure and perfect as her Heavenly Mother's shrine in Ise, though rather secret. Kami made great fanfare at the places they ascend to or descend from Heaven, and in these places are shrines, and priests, and priestesses, and shrine maidens, and all other things. But in the places where tennyo go back and forth, and reside, the places where the heavenly maidens go, there are no torii, and none come to worship. 

The comings and goings of the servants of the Gods in Heaven are not the business of Earth. 

This particular tennyo served at the pleasure of the Heavenly Mother, Amaterasu no O-Kami, and she took her duty seriously. A demon had come here, come to this beautiful land, her Mother's land, and was destroying it. This was not acceptable. Other demons had come, from China and the lands to the west, but this particular demon was from a place far beyond that, a dirty place. What more, this demon was a corruptor, a possessor of other demons, and was eating away at the demons of Japan, setting them against each other and killing them with alacrity. 

Men would not care for the affairs of demons, and would do nothing to stop this creature – at least, not until this demon began to strike at them. This would be in vain, of course, as no human held all the tools to defeat such a thing. 

But all things in this land were the business of the Kami, and even demons deserved their assistance, if it meant saving them from a foreign devil. 

And so they sent this tennyo, who stood here in this garden, and was charged with several duties. The first was to confront this foreign devil and assess him. 

She did this now, staring at the youkai fifty paces from her. 

"Asesu," she called. 

The creature hesitated. It feared her. It understood she was knowledgeable. It depended on deception, on fooling a stronger demon to kill its host, so that he could possess this new demon. But she understood what it was, and it feared her. 

"Bitch," he said. 

The tennyo did not smile, though she wanted to. 

"You should not have come here, Asesu. You have made some very powerful enemies." 

"You can't kill me," it sneered. Though it still feared her, it said this with confidence. 

"What makes you think I wish to kill you, Asesu?" 

The demon regarded her strangely. In its presence, she could feel its life force, feel it very strongly. She could sense the soul of the inu-youkai, weakened but still struggling. She could tell he had been possessed very recently, perhaps this same day. It would not be able to struggle for long, as she could see the soul becoming trampled by Asesu's will. This youkai, too, would fall to Asesu if she allowed it. 

At the same time, she could sense Asesu, sense this dark demon, this creature of smoke and nothingness. She could feel its soul, and though it was terribly dark, there was something in there she recognized. She could tell it was once something very much like her. A servant of a great Kami, a foreign Kami but powerful regardless. She could sense sorrow in it, rejection, a thirst for vengeance. 

I see him now, and very clearly. Asesu. A fallen angel. A servant of his Kami, a servant who turned on its master. But his master was a great Kami, and the rebellion was crushed. The insubordinate angels were rounded up. Some were deprived of existence. Some were cast down to Hell. And some were given other punishments. Asesu's punishment was the destruction of his body, leaving him a wandering soul, which can only see through the eyes of men, the creatures he so hated he would take up arms against his Kami to destroy them. But his power was underestimated, for he became a possessor, a controller, and a killer. 

The great foreign Kami was foolish to allow such a thing to manifest, and more foolish still to allow such a creature to come here, to The Land Where the Sun Rises, but such a thing shall be forgiven, with the understanding that Asesu is now in the hands of the Heavenly Mother. 

And at this moment, the tennyo thought, _I am Her hands._

The inu-youkai frowned at her. 

"Can you possess other angels, Asesu? Could you possess me, if you tried?" 

The inu-youkai grasped the hilt to his blade. 

"Of course, you cannot." 

The tennyo held her hands out before her, and between them a ball of purifying energy formed. Before the inu-youkai could even draw his blade, the ball struck him in the chest. Glowing energy surrounded him, sparks flew from his fingers and hair, his eyes glowed ghostly yellow, and from them an inky blackness spewed, flowing like oil, forming a ball above his head. 

The inu-youkai collapsed, and above him, the black ball roiled and shook, faces forming inside and pressing against its skin, if it could be said to have skin. 

The ball shot away, for the barrier around the tennyo's home was surely unbearable when Asesu was without a host. She could sense him escape the barrier, and, very dimly, felt him possess some poor creature thousands of paces away. 

She exhaled softly. He was strong. She had hoped the purifying wave would be enough to kill it, but the disappointment was lessened by the fact she was able to save the inu-youkai. 

_To kill Asesu_, she realized, _will require more effort than I can muster myself._

The inu-youkai stirred. She remained still, allowing him to get to his feet. He pressed his hands to his face, as if assuring himself his head was still in place, and then looked to her. 

It was hard not to blush at his piercing eyes, and though he stared at her for slightly longer than what was polite, she afforded him the opportunity. 

"Thank you," he said finally. "That . . . thing possessed me. I could read its mind. If it had followed through with its intent – to kill you with my own hand – I doubt I would have been able to keep my sanity." He shook his head. "I have traveled far, but never have I come across a creature like it." 

Startled, she held a hand to her mouth as he bowed deeply to her. 

"I am in your debt, my Lady. I beg you, tell me what you desire, in exchange for saving my life, and I shall see it done." 

She shook her head. "That is unnecessary. It is my duty to restore balance to my home, and eradicate this foreign devil. I act in the service of the Heavenly Light, and I will take no servant." 

He smiled at her, and the smile stirred something within her, something warm and reassuring. The realization came to her that she could trust this youkai. 

"If not a servant," he ventured, "then, perhaps a partner?" 

His expression remained stately, but there was something coy in it. Did he know what she was? 

"A partner?" she said. 

I can not defeat Asesu alone. 

"A partner," she said again. 

Her expression softened. 

- - - 

Some fifty years passed, and during that time she remained close to home, by the Ametsuchi no Reisen, the Miraculous Spring of Heaven and Earth. The pool was constructed by the servants of the Water God not long after her arrival here, and allowed her to confer with Heaven. A plan was settled during that time, a complicated one, requiring several centuries before its full execution, but tennyo lived very long lives, and this tennyo would see it through. 

The inu-youkai she ran into that day, on her first confrontation with Asesu, was known in Heaven, for he was among the most powerful dai-youkai. His uncommon like of humans and unnatural intelligence and kindness made him a very trustworthy accomplice in this plan. 

There was only one thing in Heaven or Earth that would appropriately seal away this foreign demon for eternity, and she was long-since dead. Still, she had been a remarkable warrior-priestess, and her spirit remained enshrined in Heaven. To bring her to Earth would require great effort – a life-giving ritual, of extremely rare participants, taking place in the Ametsuchi no Reisen. 

The fate-lines were clear, and over those fifty years it was determined that the proper participants would be ready on this day, two centuries hence. 

They would perform the ritual beautifully, the Gods knew, but that was not enough. The Ametsuchi no Reisen would not let any man or woman into its depths, even for a purpose as noble as this. For the man and woman to enter the deepest part of the Pool, the part between worlds, there must be something on the other side, calling them. A part of one of their souls must already be between worlds, in limbo. 

To be allowed into the Ametsuchi no Reisen, one of them had to die. 

It was decided that it was best to wait until Asesu attacked them directly. The man would fight them, and his soul would be broken in two. In a last, desperate effort, his spiritual strength would send away That Which Remembers to the spirit world, to be captured and stored in the Ametsuchi no Reisen, while That Which Is will pass on naturally when his body dies. 

Here was a convenience for the Gods: the inu-youkai which volunteered to help her half a century ago held plans to forge a life-giving sword, a Tenseiga, which would return the man's life and return to it That Which Is, sending him on a journey to recover his That Which Remembers. He will, of course, reunite with the woman, and they will both go to a priestess they know well for advice. The tennyo would make sure to place herself in a position where the priestess would have trust in her, so that the priestess would know where to direct the man and woman at that time. 

A further convenience: at the time the man dies, he will be in the company of both his son and his former servant. His other son will not be far from them, and he will be carrying the Tenseiga at that time. 

All that remained for the tennyo to do – at least, in this century – was to confer with the inu-youkai, to convince him to instruct the servant not to interfere with these events, and to ensure the Tenseiga – a sword strong enough to have its own mind and will – to recognize the man, the houshi that will be known as Miroku, and revive him at the proper time. 

With this in mind, the tennyo finished her packing and left her home for the first time in fifty years, walking at a brisk pace toward the Western Lands where the inu-youkai reign. 

- - - 

The young woman wondered if the other servants of priestesses had such strange and confusing orders. 

She didn't complain, for the Miko-dono had been most kind to her. She had nothing, nothing at all except the memories of a dead husband. She could not farm her husband's lands by herself, and rather than accept a marriage of convenience, she fled her home. 

When she came to the Miko-dono's hut, she was destitute. But the woman showed her unparalleled kindness, taking her in, allowing her a bath, a decent meal, and the Miko-dono's own clothes. The Miko-dono asked for nothing, instead giving her the choice: continue on her journey, or stay here and live as a servant. 

She needn't more than a moment to decide. 

Still, it was strange, the things she was told to do. A year ago, she traveled to Musashi's Domain, to seek an old miko named Kaede. She accomplished this, and conversed with the woman as instructed, and made sure to tell Kaede about the Ametsuchi no Reisen, and its power – specificially, that it could restore the shattered soul of a man, so long as he was of great spiritual power, and that the woman with him was willing to suffer a great trial along with him. She made sure that Kaede understood the gravity of this information, that it should not be shared, and never be acted upon unless in the most dire of circumstances. 

The girl did not understand much about the Ametsuchi no Reisen, except that her mistress prayed there very often, more so than she expected even a Miko to speak to the Gods. Its power was mystifying to her, but she understood one thing: it could not bring her husband back. Knowing that, she took very little interest in the Miraculous Spring of Heaven and Earth. 

This last request was stranger still. She was asked to recover a man, a Buddhist priest, and follow him, making sure he traveled the right direction, and reunited with his group. She did so, meeting him in the village where he died and was revived, and discreetly following him to a village several days northeast. She was by no means a shinobi, but Miko-dono had taught her a few techniques on tracking, and the fact few men expected a woman to be doing something clever or sneaky was to her advantage. She had expected the houshi to notice her, and she kept a close eye on his tracks in case he attempted to double-back, but his abilities as a fighter had clearly suffered from his time in limbo. 

She rested against the side of a noodle shop when he saw the houshi confront his friends – the miko and the inu-hanyou – and decided that was proof enough that the houshi would be safe. 

She grew tired of walking, and took solace in the fact that this would be the last leg of her journey. She would return to Miko-dono, and report her efforts, and hopefully, sleep for days. 

Her stomach growled, and the girl cursed herself for forgetting dinner. 

**Author's Note:** Session Five is the last part of the story, and consists of five chapters. 

That means that there are four chapters left in the story, which have been written, are being proofread, and will be posted over the course of two weeks. 

In accordance with the prophecy. :o) 

Chapter completed 4 August 2004


	28. Go Home: Part II

****

If You Need Her 

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FIVE: GO HOME 

**II.**

_

"I don't think you unworthy.  
I need a moment to deliberate."  
- Alanis Morissette, "Uninvited"  


_

"Kagome?" 

"Kagome!" 

"Kaaaaa-goooooooo-meeeee!!" 

She wasn't certain whether it was the shouting she felt first, or the tiny fox-feet jumping up and down on her chest, or the tugging at the collar of her blouse. She had been dreaming strangely, and now she awoke slowly, opening her eyes the slightest bit. 

"You're okay!" the kitsune cried, now waving his arms, smiling broadly. 

Kagome sat up, feeling the dirt beneath her fingers, and blinked a few times. 

"Shippou-chan," she murmured. "I must've had a nightmare." 

As her eyes focused, she realized where she was. With a shriek, she clapped a hand on her throat. 

But there was no cut. No scar. No blood. Her blouse was clean. And yet, the look on Shippou's face made it clear to her that it was no dream. 

"Shippou-chan, what happened?" 

She caught movement in the corner of her eye, and turned her head to see a shindamachuu close beside her. It held no soul in its claws, and – she could swear – it betrayed an expression of disappointment as it circled her and returned to its mistress. 

Kikyou stood with her back toward her, and turned slightly at hearing Kagome's question. 

"Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru fought here, and in doing so, Sesshoumaru's sword discharged a great deal of healing energy. That is how you were revived." 

The words would not register in Kagome's mind for a few moments, for as Kikyou turned, she could see the figure lying at her feet, an arrow deep in its chest. 

"Inuyasha!" she cried. 

Kagome lept to her feet, a feeling of horror burning in her gut, sweeping up her throat. He lay there motionless, hair splayed about him, arms widespread. Tessaiga lay near, its untransformed blade almost hidden in the thick grass. 

She ran, but barely made three steps before the ground in front of her exploded upward, sending dirt, pebbles, and clods of grass into the air. She stopped short, gasping at the foot-wide trench before her. 

She turned to her right, and there Sesshoumaru stood, his hand outstretched, a tendril of his energy-whip curling back up into the air and disappearing as quickly as it had come from his fingertips. 

Rin stood beside him, her young face fraught with worry. 

"Please, Kagome, don't get too close to him! It's dangerous!" 

Sesshoumaru lowered his hand and turned away from her, a look of annoyance on his face, as if he was embarrassed that he had protected her from something. 

Kagome nodded curtly and held her ground. She looked back at Inuyasha, and now she could see Kikyou kneeling beside him, one hand held in prayer before her, the other holding a small sake-bottle. She perceived a small glow from within it. __

A soul? 

Inuyasha still did not move. Aside from the arrow, he appeared uninjured, which was good. The arrow itself was apparently Kikyou's sealing arrow, though it appeared to have writing over its shaft and feathers that she could not read from this distance. She could sense his soul, and know he was alive. 

She studied his face, at the way his eyes were clenched so tightly, the eyebrows cocked in a grimace of annoyance or pain, and now she saw a spot of movement on his forehead. She squinted, and gasped as she realized what it was. 

"Myouga-jiichan!" 

The flea-youkai sat quietly on Inuyasha's brow, though what he was doing there, she could not quite tell. 

After a minute, Myouga lept upward, landing at the rim of the bottle in Kikyou's hands. The soul inside grew dark, and sensing this, Kagome felt sick to her stomach. __

Asesu. Asesu has taken the soul in the bottle. 

How could Myouga do such a thing? 

"I've defeated it, Kikyou-sama!" the flea-youkai cried. He lept up and down on Inuyasha's head, then, seeing Kagome, lept across the grass to greet her. 

She held out her hands, and Myouga landed there, waving his arms gleefully. 

"I did it, Kagome-sama! I fought Asesu, and I won! Just as Inu-taisho instructed me! Myouga saves the day!" 

"Myouga-jiichan," she said, "how could you fight him? Sango-chan lost against him, and so did Miroku-sama . . ." 

"So did Inuyasha-sama and the girl Rin," said Myouga. "Though, one could say Miroku-sama fought to a draw. And Asesu, who never took a hanyou before, did nothing more than upset the balance between Inuyasha's human and youkai sides, giving his youkai-nature control, so that was something of a draw as well." 

"His youkai-nature . . ." Kagome whispered. She had not sensed the strong youki he bore when Inuyasha went into youkai-rage, but the fact he had been affected by it was very upsetting. 

"Yes, it was terribly convenient, really, since Asesu was so confused trying to separate and defeat different aspects of Inuyasha-sama's personality. It gave me a great opportunity to challenge him myself." 

"How?" 

"Well, I have natural talent for the game of Go," he said, rubbing his hands together. "I've been playing it for over five hundred years, you see. It was only a matter of challenging him to a quick game. He had possessed a number of men talented at the game, but it was still an easy manner to defeat him. Once that was done, I merely stuck him in Kikyou's soul-container. Worry no more, Kagome-sama." 

A sharp crack punctuated his last words. 

Kagome looked up to where Kikyou stood. She held the bottle before her in both hands. A thin, jagged line went from its mouth to its bottom. 

"The container," Kikyou said, her voice even. "Asesu is rejecting the soul." 

"What!?" Kagome and Myouga cried in unison. 

Kikyou frowned in frustration. 

"Asesu is breaking free." 

**Author's Note:** This is the last time he does this. I swear. 

Chapter completed 7 August 2004


	29. Go Home: Part III

****

If You Need Her 

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FIVE: GO HOME 

**III.**

_

"Heaven holds a sense of wonder  
And I wanted to believe  
That I'd get caught up  
When the rage in me subsides."  
- Sarah McLachlan, "Silence (Delerium)"  


_

The neko-youkai purred as the woman's fingers brushed her fur. In another place, on another woman's lap, the firecat would have long ago gone searching for her mistress. But Kirara's well-tuned senses, forged through generations of fighting alongside humans, saw through the guise of the old woman. She held great power within her, and great wisdom as well. But what made Kirara feel safe, and feel her mistress and the houshi were safe, was the aura of this place, its power, and the understanding that no creature with evil in its heart would be able to stand here for very long, and would certainly not be able to serve as its steward. 

But why, then, was the old woman here? Why were her mistress and the houshi led here? 

Kirara's ears pricked. Someone was coming. Hopefully, her curiosity – a trait shared by neko and neko-youkai alike – might be satisfied by this new visitor. 

"Sukui-chan," the old woman called, smiling as a much younger woman stood in the entryway. 

"Miko-dono" she replied. "It's been a long time." 

Through the slit of one eye, Kirara studied the newcomer, who wore a colorful kosode and a light traveling cloth wrapped around her waist, a style of dress not unlike her mistress. 

"You look starved, dear. Please, take some soup." 

The woman bowed with thanks and quickly took a bowl from the corner of the hut, spooning into it the contents of a covered pot by the fire. 

"The houshi found his companions," Sukui said. "I followed him for three days, and as soon as I could, I returned here." 

"It is too bad you don't have a firecat such as this one, Sukui-chan. The houshi and taiji-ya have already come here, and are conducting the ritual as we speak." 

"Ah," Sukui said, eyes downcast. "I apologize, then, since I have nothing but old news for you." 

"It is I who should apologize, for making you travel so hard. But the thing I truly wanted you to do – to make sure the houshi did not lose his way, or come to harm – that is done, and I thank you." 

Sukui nodded. 

"Though, I do resent you taking certain matters into your own hands, Sukui-chan." 

The girl blushed. 

"I . . . don't know what you mean . . ." 

"The Gods know all, Sukui-chan, and I daresay a few days ago, they had some choice words for me, for allowing my servant to deviate from the plan they so carefully constructed. Something about a 'beautiful, boyish face,' if I recall correctly. Does that mean anything to you?" 

Sukui set down the bowl and kneeled opposite the woman. "Well, you see . . . since it was necessary to make sure he was the right man . . . it made sense to test him, you see . . . to make sure his loyalty to the taiji-ya was strong enough . . ." 

Kirara noted that Sukui spoke in much the same manner the houshi did after he did something to offend her mistress and attempted to explain himself. The old woman ceased her petting again, for only a moment, so that her annoyance would register with her visitor, and then spoke no more of it. 

"Whatever the case, I am glad you did nothing else foolish. What is to occur today was a plan that has taken two hundred and fifty years to come to fruition. To fail at the very last instant would have been worlds beyond tragic." 

Sukui's face brightened in realization. "Then, everything has gone as planned?" 

The old woman smiled. "To some extent. The dai-youkai went beyond his duties, and instructed his servant to attempt battle with Asesu, a battle I surmise is happening at this very instant. He will not succeed, of course, but rather than interfering with our plans, he will assist them, by delaying Asesu, and putting him off his guard. The time for Asesu to meet a proper adversary is come, and this time, he will most certainly die." 

"Are you certain the houshi can succeed?" 

The woman laughed. 

"The houshi? No, dear, his role was merely to bring the warrior to the Ametsuchi no Reisen. Now that he has completed his part in the ritual of Izanagi and Izanami, the houshi's role in all this is done." 

The old woman finally lifted both hands from Kirara's fur, picked up the neko-youkai in both hands, and held her just before her face. 

"Speaking of which, little one, I think the both of them are ready by now. Go now. Your mistress awaits." 

Kirara mewed softly and leapt to the floor. She stepped to the door, turned to see both the women following at a fair distance, and then raced along the thin line of her mistress's scent that led through the woods before her. 

- - - 

The huntress crouched in the same spot where she had awoken, completely motionless, barely breathing. It was very disorienting, to be brought here, and though she had awoken a few moments ago on the stone floor, she had still not quite retrieved her bearings. 

She was alive. That in itself was very strange. 

What was less strange was the fact that she was in what appeared to be a dry well some ten meters in diameter and perhaps twice as deep. The floor appeared bone-dry, and though the walls were clean of moss or slime, the stones were set so close together that the walls were clearly unscaleable. 

The huntress might have made a try in searching through her clothes for a good length of rope, but this was impossible, as she was quite naked. This, she decided, was more strange than being in a well, and the combination of being naked and being in a dry well was rather upsetting. 

Strangest of all, of course, was the man that had been lying beside her, whose presence had sent her leaping away in a defensive crouch, and whose body was likewise naked. 

Had she a rock, she would probably have given him a few good blows in the head, but there was not a single loose stone to be found. In any case, as she sat there, the sharp fear of rape, the threat of rape, the belief of having been raped, began to subside, and the realization came that he was in the same predicament as her, that he was not an assailant, but a victim of whatever had placed them here. He had no weapon, and though he appeared strong, she did not think he could overpower her. Further, the serene expression on his sleeping face led her to believe he was not a threat. 

Still, she would have liked to have a rock handy, just in case. 

She was still contemplating the rock situation, and what she might do when the man awoke, when the firecat came, falling from above, and landing softly beside her. 

She was startled by its appearance, but the two-tailed neko-youkai immediately comforted her. 

"Kongou," she whispered. "Kongou, where is your mistress?" 

The firecat's expression changed from hopeful to frightened by this question, and she took one step backward, cocking her head to one side. 

"My sister, Kongou. Where is Midoriko-onee-sama?" 

She had been so familiar with Kongou, her sister's beloved partner, the firecat that had been at her sister's last battle in the demon cave, the firecat that had summarily disappeared and was never seen again, that seeing the animal had made her forget about her sister's fate. 

Now she remembered Midoriko's semi-death, the creation of the Shikon no Tama, the destruction of her village, the many years she lived, the fortress her people built to protect the cave and its treasure, the appearance of the shinobi clan that intermarried within their small village of warrior-priests and priestesses. She remembered her husband, the children she bore, the battles she bled in, the scars she carried, the old ways dying and the new ways being born. 

She remembered dying, dying of cursed old age, and before her death, she remembered the name given to her people by those who sought their assistance. 

They called them youkai taiji-ya. 

"Her name is Kirara," called a voice above her. 

She looked up now, seeing two women standing at the edge of the well, one not far out of her teenage years, the other seventy years old or more. 

"You've been called back, Tsukiyo-sama. The gods demand your assistance." The old woman smiled. "I, lowly priestess that I am, humbly beg it. A demon unlike any other has appeared, and its defeat requires a skill whose technique has been lost for many centuries." 

The woman in the well was so startled that she made no attempt to cover herself, though she did place a hand over her heart. 

"The trapping of a soul . . . as Midoriko-onee-sama had once done . . ." 

"It is much to ask, I know, Tsukiyo-sama. I have brought together a young couple – a man of great spiritual power, and your own descendant, a taiji-ya of great skill, and they have completed the ritual of Izanagi and Izanami in the Miraculous Spring of Heaven and Earth. They've called forth your soul from its rest, allowing you to briefly live within the taiji-ya. Already you have been put through much, and to ask you to sacrifice your soul to capture a demon . . . it is something I cannot force you to do, nor even ask forgiveness for asking you to submit to." 

The old woman clasped her hands together in frustration. 

"This body," the huntress ventured, holding her hands before her. "She is my descendant?" 

"Her name is Sango. She is one of very few taiji-ya alive at this time, but if that man beside you lives long enough for it, she will not be the last." 

The huntress turned toward the still-sleeping form. It was a good thing, after all, that she could not find a rock. She smiled briefly, realizing that he didn't look all that different from her husband, now that she thought of it. 

The huntress turned back toward the woman above her. 

"This creature I am asked to defeat," she asked. "He has hurt them somehow?" 

"Both of them, Tsukiyo-sama. Very severely." 

She clenched her fists. 

"That is enough for me. I will do this thing you ask." 

The old woman smiled. 

**Author's Note:** Sukui was introduced in Chapter Three. 

I'm still working on some last-minute changes to the next two chapters, but I hope to have them settled within a few days. 

Chapter completed 9 August 2004


	30. Go Home: Part IV

****

If You Need Her 

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FIVE: GO HOME 

**IV.**

_

"As a rapturous voice escapes  
I will tremble in prayer  
And I'll beg for forgiveness.  
Your sins into me  
O my beautiful one."  
- AFI, "Silver and Cold"  


_

He was the same as he always was. 

He felt that, felt it deeply. Something had happened to him, something terrible, and whatever happened in that well, the well they left far and fast behind them, had restored him. 

He wasn't sure of the nature of his illness. Perhaps he had once again use the Kazaana recklessly, and drew in some terrible poison. But that didn't feel right, either. His sickness ran deeper than that, so deep it stung when he tried to approach it in his mind. 

He hadn't time to deal with this. What he knew now was that he was well. His spiritual energies were refreshed, his mind was clear, and his spirit was ready for whatever Kirara was bearing him toward. 

It was _she_ who was different. 

The girl before him, the taiji-ya who had traveled with for ages, it seemed, was not Sango. At least, not exactly. This should have upset him. The fact he could not recall the events of the past few days should have upset him as well, but it did not. There would be time enough for dwelling on that later. 

His awakening had been rather rude, involving a tightly-wrapped bundle of his clothing striking him rather square in the face, thrown from a rather good height. Sango, or the girl who looked like Sango, was leaning with her back against the edge of the well, shouting for him to get dressed, that they were late to a fight. 

He dressed quickly, and Kirara dove down to retrieve him. He sat behind the taiji-ya, as he always did, and immediately they raced onward, in the general direction of the last place he recalled seeing Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippou. 

She was not Sango. She felt like her, even had her aura, but her mannerisms were slightly off, the look in her eye slightly different. At the moment, he was forced into trusting Kirara's judgement. The firecat had a much stronger bond to the taiji-ya, and were anything wrong, she would have made this clear already. 

She was being controlled by something. He wasn't sure what, not yet, but it kept him uneasy, and ever-watchful of her actions. 

He noticed, also, that her sense of jaki was heightened. Taiji-ya were better than most humans at sensing and locating jaki, but his spiritual training still gave him an advantage over her in that respect. Yet, she managed to find and steer toward a very slight presence of jaki before he could sense it himself. He kept his senses tuned, and soon he could sense youki as well. 

Even before they arrived, he could recognize the youki, the youki of an inu-youkai and a hanyou. __

Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha. 

They broke through the woods, dismounting Kirara even before she touched the ground, and Sango managed to outdistance him, a very frustrating thing, as Miroku did not like to run into a battle without so much as surveying the situation. 

What he saw was somewhat cryptic – a meeting with some very unlikely members. There was Kagome and Shippou, looking upset but unhurt. There was Sesshoumaru, giving no attention to their arrival, with Rin at his feet. 

All of them looked onward, with grave concern, to Kikyou, who held a small object in her hands. 

At that moment the jaki struck him with full force, a familiar jaki, and he nearly fell to his knees. __

Asesu. 

Asesu, you bastard, I killed you. 

"Sango-chan!" Kagome called out. "Miroku-sama!" The young girl ran to them. 

"Asesu was trapped," Kagome cried, "he was trapped but he's breaking free. Miroku-sama, you have to get out of here, or he'll kill you!" 

Kagome stood before Miroku, her hands clasped before her, a silent prayer that the houshi would run from here, and save himself. 

Miroku bowed his head. 

_I fought that thing for nearly two straight days, and I lost. _

I don't think I could do as well a second time. 

With a grimace, he struck the ground with his shakujou and leaned upon it. 

_I can do nothing. _

I can fight him again, and surely die, but in the end, I can do nothing. 

"Houshi-sama." 

Miroku looked up, and with brimming fear, saw Sango sitting before him, the cursed container in her hands. Kikyou stood behind her, an expression very close to confusion on her face, as if Sango had swiped the unholy container from her hands like a common thief. 

"Sango!" 

"No time to argue, Houshi-sama! Make a barrier, around just this bottle and me. This will all be over, I just need to force Asesu to attack me again!" 

His stomach clenched. 

"Sango, I can't . . . I can't do that . . ." 

She looked up to him, eyes suddenly warm, expression suddenly hopeful. Soothing. 

"She won't be hurt, Houshi-sama. Please trust me in this. It's the only way." 

Miroku closed his eyes. The seal on Asesu was failing. If he did not make a decision quickly, they could all die. 

"Alright." 

With determination, or else faked determination, he planted his shakujou directly behind Sango and stepped backward. He brought a hand before his face in prayer, and a holy shell descended from the tip of the shakujou, surrounding Sango and the staff in a dome some three meters in diameter. 

"I can't hold it for long, not against something that strong." 

"You won't have to," she said. 

Sango took a deep breath, and the bottle shattered in her hands. 

The black corruption within swirled around the barrier, striking it several times. Asesu was aware of having been trapped, and it feared the taiji-ya. It was intelligent, and understood the taiji-ya wanted to be possessed, and gratifying such a desire was not in its best interests. 

Miroku flinched each time Asesu tested the holy shell, feeling the barrier nearly break with each strike. It was difficult enough to form a barrier against normal youkai, but they at least had bodies to press against. Keeping Asesu contained was like trying to build a wall to keep out smoke. The tiniest of holes would be enough for it to break free, and keeping such weaknesses fully closed required great spiritual stamina. 

Luckily, it was apparent that Asesu could survive only a matter of seconds outside a host, and like a diver that rushes for the surface when the air in his lungs is consumed, it dove into Sango's body and corrupted her. 

Miroku fell to his knees, gasping, and the barrier collapsed. Tendrils of smoke snaked from the circle the barrier made in the grass. He quickly tried to control his breathing, willing himself not to pass out. 

For a few seconds, nothing happened. 

"Sango?" 

"Sango-chan?" 

A blinding light struck both Miroku and Kagome. Miroku held an arm over his face to shield his eyes, and raised a protective arm over Kagome as a reflex, but his efforts were useless, as a powerful shock wave threw both of them off their feet. A muffled cry of kitsune fear sounded somewhere to the left. 

When his vision cleared, Miroku was on his back, Sango standing before him. And then, he realized she wasn't standing, for her eyes were closed and her body limp, hanging in the air as if supported by an invisible string tied to her chest. The toes of her boots scraped the ground, then lifted away. 

Now a deep glow came from the taiji-ya's breast, and as it occurred to Miroku what might be happening, a bright, glowing ball burst from her chest, dragging streams of blood behind it like a half-dozen tails, staining the ground between Sango and the spot where the glowing ball struck the ground and burned away the grass. 

Sango fell lifelessly on her back, the wound in her chest producing a brief fountain of blood on impact, staining her taiji-ya uniform a dark red. 

He didn't remember rushing to her side, and the screams that echoed around him did not register, even though he believed at least one of the voices he heard was his own. All he knew was that he was beside her now, cradling her head in one arm, holding one hand over the ragged, bloody hole in her uniform. __

Shikon no Tama. I don't know how, I don't know why, but she fused her soul with Asesu and created a Shikon no Tama. 

How dare you! How dare you do this to yourself! To me! 

There was no way she could survive this. Her soul cast from her body. Her chest torn open. He wondered if Midoriko, the great priestess who had created the Shikon no Tama, had a man who loved her, and if so, if he had seen her die this way, as if her life was her own to throw away. 

"Miroku-sama!" 

"Miroku-sama, the soul!" 

He turned, seeing Kagome kneeling beside the newly-cast Shikon no Tama. It was much smaller than the jewel that had brought them all together, and clearly nowhere near as powerful. But still powerful enough, he surmised, that it would be sought by those with evil intentions, someday. 

"Miroku-sama, the Shikon no Tama, can't you sense it? There are two souls in it, but they aren't Sango!" 

Kikyou approached the jewel and cautiously picked it up between thumb and forefinger. 

"It has much the same feel as the Shikon no Tama," Kikyou mused. "But there are only two souls. One is Asesu, and the other feels almost like Midoriko. A close relative, perhaps. But clearly not the taiji-ya." 

"Then," Miroku whispered. "Then perhaps . . . because she was acting strangely . . . her soul is unharmed . . ." 

One hand hovered at her collar. 

"Forgive me, Sango," he whispered. 

In a swift motion, he tore open the top of her taiji-ya uniform and wiped away the pool of blood between her breasts with the edge of his sleeve. Even as he tested with cautious fingers, he found no interruption in her skin. 

"No wound," he whispered, fastening her uniform closed. "Her clothes are torn, but there is no wound." 

A hand clasped his wrist. Her hand. She met his look of surprise with half-lidded eyes, and her lips moved, though her voice was so weak he could barely hear the words. 

He leaned over her, placing his ear just above her mouth. 

"Houshi-sama," she said. Her hand released his wrist and touched his cheek. 

"Sukebe." 

He leaned back, seeing her smile, returning it, and then her eyes closed, and her breathing became regular, her expression peaceful. 

"Sou ka," he said, biting his lip. 

- - - 

He could not describe the place he was. He might say he was a dark place, but it was not dark, but a sort of thing beyond light or darkness. There was no sensation, no touch, no feel, no smell or taste or sound. He felt like he often did outside a host - disconnected, disoriented. But he was not afraid. And he was not alone. __

You are defeated, Asesu. 

There was nothing here but his mind, and the mind of the woman who had finally, soundly, and effortlessly beaten him. _****_

So it seems, Tsukiyo. 

Why so fatalistic, Asesu? ****

Fatalistic? 

Why not try to fight me? Have you no aggressions left, Asesu? ****

I tire, Tsukiyo. I have lived six thousand years and possessed more creatures than I can count. Even in defeat, I can appreciate rest. 

You are a strange creature, Asesu. ****

Do I disappoint you, Tsukiyo? Do you wish me to cry and shout, to try to break free of this prison? 

A little, Asesu. ****

Then after I rest long enough, I will pretend to be upset, and in great pain. Would you like that, Tsukiyo? 

That would amuse me, Asesu. ****

An odd prison this is. Trapped together, like your sister once trapped that mass of demons, are we not? 

We are. ****

And the jewel created, it is a Shikon no Tama, then? Soon to be sought by demons? 

You think too much of yourself, Asesu. Though you are a dangerous thing, and a very wily spirit, you are not a powerful enough demon to create anything nearing the power of the true Shikon no Tama. ****

How disappointing, Tsukiyo. 

Perhaps I could pretend that you were a strong demon. Would you like that, Asesu? ****

That would amuse me, Tsukiyo. 

It is unfortunate that you could not have displayed this reason, this restraint, beforehand. Were it not for your bloodthirst, Asesu, you would not have attracted the attentions of Heaven, and we would not be here. ****

When you are a creature without substance, Tsukiyo, you find that you desire attention, and desire it very much. How else would I be sure I existed, if no one feared me? If no one knew me? 

I do not fear you, Asesu. ****

No, but you are trapped here with me, and thus you must know me. You needn't talk to me, and could ignore me if you chose, but you cannot forget that I exist, Tsukiyo. 

And that satisfies you, Asesu? ****

It is enough. 

A pause stretched between them, one of either a moment, or a thousand years. It mattered little in this place, but the fact that there was a pause, and a time where one mind, or both, was safe in his or her thoughts.

I will not ignore you, Asesu. 

- - - 

"Sesshoumaru-sama!" 

"Sesshoumaru-sama!" 

The youkai lord didn't so much as glance in the direction of his servant's voice, as the toad-youkai was not important enough to attract his attention. Unfortunately, this required him to continue staring straight ahead, which might make it seem he was interested in Inuyasha's companions and the demon they had fought. 

To tell the truth, he was somewhat interested, but it was an interest borne of annoyance. The demon they called Asesu had harmed Rin, and now the creature had been sealed away. He thought his chance at defeating Asesu would come when it broke free of the trifling container Myouga and the miko had devised, but instead they trapped it in some sort of jewel, and it was clear to this Sesshoumaru that Asesu had been soundly defeated this time around. 

"Sesshoumaru-sama!" 

Jaken appeared before him, holding Toukijin in his hands, kneeling before Sesshoumaru and presenting the sword. 

"I followed it half a ri back, Sesshoumaru-sama. Though I knew Sesshoumaru-sama would not have let the sword go except as a diversionary tactic, I took it upon myself to seek it out, so that Sesshoumaru-sama needn't waste his time searching for it, even though such a thing would be a trifling endevour to Sesshoumaru-sama. It was driven halfway through a tree, and I had to burn it free with Nintoujou, but no effort would be too much for Jaken – ah!" 

Clearly the creature was surprised when Sesshoumaru took the sword from him and sheathed it beside Tenseiga, but Jaken clearly had a good twenty minutes to devise a speech, and Sesshoumaru did not intend to listen to such a thing. 

"Rin." 

"Hai!" 

"We are going now." 

"Hai, Sesshoumaru-sama!" 

The young girl waved to Kagome and fell in step behind the stately youkai lord and the grumbling Jaken. 

- - -

Kagome breathed a sigh of relief. Asesu was trapped, trapped for good. The soul that had served its temporary host in the container had gone on to the other world. Sango was hurt, but she would recover. 

And Inuyasha . . . 

She stood, her heart uneasy as she glanced at the unconscious hanyou and the arrow which sealed him. 

"I will take this Shikon no Tama to an appropriate place," Kikyou said. "It lacks the power of even a shard of the true Shikon no Tama, but it is still best that it remain in a shrine." 

"What about Inuyasha?" Kagome asked. 

Kikyou turned to the hanyou. 

"I have no other use for him here." 

"Kikyou?" 

"The arrow," Kikyou said. "You should have no trouble removing it. You have proven yourself adept at nullifying my sealing arrows." 

"Kikyou!" 

The priestess said no more. Kagome watched her leave, unable to approach Inuyasha until she was sure the miko was gone. As if it would be rude, to void Kikyou's spell in her presence. 

As if she did not want Inuyasha to know Kikyou had been there. 

"Kikyou," she whispered. 

_You share part of my soul, Kikyou. What sort of terrible things would have to happen to me, to be so hateful as you? _

To be so sad? 

To be so alone? 

She shook her head and approached Inuyasha, kneeling beside him. __

I think I could almost accept him loving you, if you weren't so cruel. 

Her fingers grasped the arrow's shaft, and with a quick pull, the arrow dissolved in her hands. 

Inuyasha immediately drew in a sharp breath. 

"Kagome?" he exhaled. 

"I'm here. I'm okay, Inuyasha." 

"I was afraid . . . that I hurt you, Kagome." 

"No," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Inuyasha, you didn't hurt anyone." 

"Don't cry, Kagome. I hate it when you do that." 

"I know . . . I just . . . I just want to go home, Inuyasha." 

"Go home?" 

"Yes. Go home." 

Inuyasha sat up, one hand briefly touching Kagome's shoulder, then reaching out for Tessaiga. He still felt dazed, and could see Kagome was upset, as was Miroku. Shippou was crying, though trying not to. Before Miroku, Sango lay lifelessly. 

"Sango," Inuyasha said. "Is she . . .?" 

"She'll be alright," Miroku said. "I think all of us will be." 

"Miroku-sama," Kagome said. "We're going home for now." 

"Home?" Miroku asked. He spoke the word as if it were unfamiliar. 

"Kaede's village, Miroku-sama. Sango can recover there." 

Miroku nodded. 

_Home._

He caressed Sango's cheek softly. 

_Because I need her._

Getting to his knees, he slipped one arm behind her back, another under her knees, and lifted her toward the neko-youkai that stood patiently beside her injured mistress. 

_We should be there._

He placed her on Kirara's back, then untied his kesa and wrapped her warmly. 

_Go home._

Chapter written 5 August 2004


	31. Go Home: Part V

****

If You Need Her 

by Scribe Figaro 

SESSION FIVE: GO HOME 

**V.**

_

"Hard to say what it is I see in you.  
Wonder if I'll always be with you.  
Words can't say, and I can't do  
Enough to prove it's all for you."  
- Sister Hazel, "All For You"  


_

Winter lay her mantle on the fields of Kaede's village, but the icy winds wrought in the mountains and poured down these hills did little to dampen the spirits of those living there. Cooking fires burned with greater vigor and the villagers strode purposefully and huddled together, but their rosy faces were no less cheerful. 

Sango liked it here. 

It had not snowed yet this afternoon, but it was coming. She could taste it, a sharpness in the air that was prelude to the entire world blanketed in white. It excited her, and instilled in her feelings she recalled having as a much younger girl. 

She wanted to see the first snowflake fall. 

She wanted to catch it on her tongue, taste the winter, taste the hope of a purifying cascade of white beauty that came to her, for her. She wanted the snow to be deep, deep enough to play in. She wanted to see Shippou make snow-angels and surprise her with what kitsune magic could do to the snow. She wanted to see Kagome make a snowman with dog-ears and laugh at Inuyasha's expression when he noticed. She wanted to know what would happen if she pelted Houshi-sama with snowballs. Would he bear it, or return the assault? Or would he smile that mischevious grin of his, and tackle her into a snowbank? 

She of course had to have that particular thought on her mind as she heard someone approach her. It was all she could do to stifle a shout of surprise as she heard the crunch of sandals on frosted grass behind her. 

Something warm and heavy fell on her shoulders. Eyes wide, she turned to her side to see the dark, heavy material of a traveling monk's kesa draped over her. 

Miroku gave her shoulders a brief, friendly squeeze as he moved away from her. 

"Houshi-sama," she said, worriedly. "This – isn't this only for your rituals? I can't use a mark of your rank to keep me warm, Houshi-sama." 

"The kesa is a mark of my devotion to Buddha, and this particular one took me several years to weave. It's rather plain, but the stitching, while lacking in talent, was especially meticulous. As it is a symbol of my devotion, it should only be used to fulfill Buddha's wishes." 

He sat beside her in a lotus position. 

"If keeping a beautiful young girl warm on an evening that threatens snow is not Buddha's wish, then I know nothing of Buddha." 

She pulled the blanket a bit tighter, crossing it over her chest. The material was soft, tightly-woven, and warmed her immediately. 

"Thank you, Houshi-sama." 

"You're welcome, Sango." 

He sat beside her, his arms in his sleeves. 

"It feels like snow," he said absently. 

"I know," she said. "I'm not used to this sort of weather, but I do enjoy it. I've only seen snow a few times, when I was a little girl." 

"It's important to stay warm then," he replied. "In my travels, I've been as far north as Hokkaido. One can get sick very easily if one is not used to cold weather." 

She frowned slightly as she thought about this. Houshi-sama, a very young man traveling alone. Houshi-sama, a young boy with no family, with no home, with no one to nurse him from fever. 

"I'm getting used to it," she said. 

He nodded. 

"Sou ka," he murmured. "I almost forgot." 

From his robes he produced a small bottle, placing it in her hands. It was very warm, warm enough to be uncomfortable in her hands. 

"I imagine this is not tea, Houshi-sama." 

He smiled. "No, but as you should know, warm sake is even better, for a cold night such as this. It's a rather good sake, too. I assure you I wouldn't offer you anything but the best I could gather." 

"Oh?" she asked. She cared little for sake, but she wouldn't argue that it was a good thing to have on a cold night. She removed the wooden stopper and took a sip, allowing the liquor to cool in her mouth. She was not very knowledgeable about sake, but recognized any sake with such a light taste must have been of high quality. She and Kohaku had once snuck some sake from a merchant, and she recalled it tasting of rotten rice. 

As she lowered the bottle from her lips, she realized with annoyance that it was already half-empty. 

"How much of this did you drink on your way here, Houshi-sama?" she asked dryly. 

He chuckled as he took the bottle from her. 

"None at all, actually. It's just that, on my way here, I came across a rather forlorn flea-youkai. It seems he spent quite a few years preparing for his battle with that demon, and he was understandably upset that he was unable to permanently seal it. I spoke with him for a while, and convinced him of the value of his efforts - that his capture of Asesu, however brief, was the only that could have allowed for his permanent capture." 

He took a sip, and did not bother to wipe the bottle beforehand. 

"If I should ever make a list of the easiest things in the world to do, one of them would be instilling confidence in a flea-youkai that has just consumed ten times his weight in sake." 

He stoppered the bottle and set it between them, indicating she could take another sip whenever she chose. The small pile of snow on which it sat slowly gave way to the hot clay container, until the bottle was half-buried. 

"Why did you do that?" he asked her. 

Though over a day had passed, he had made no attempt to discuss the events leading to the destruction of the demon Asesu, and allowed her to recover without the burden of his concerns and questions. Now, from the tone of his voice, she knew he could wait no longer. 

"It was the only way." 

"Were you overtaken by that spirit? The one that sealed itself with Asesu?" 

"No," she said. "It took control, but only because I allowed it. It was one of my ancestors, a close relative to Midoriko. That was how she knew the way to seal Asesu." 

He nodded. 

"You see now," she asked. "How I felt, when you took Asesu and fought him youself." 

"That was different." 

"How?" 

He did not answer. 

"You died, Houshi-sama. You died, and your blood was on my hands. The time . . . the time before you were revived . . . those were some of my darkest days, Houshi-sama. I'm not sure I could survive something like that again." 

"Things ended for the best," he said. "I hope you take solace in that." 

"I try. I try, Houshi-sama, but it's very difficult." 

He brought his hand to her shoulder. 

"If there's anything I can say, anything I can do, to bring you comfort, please tell me." 

"Only one thing, Houshi-sama. And that thing I know you will not do." She shook her head. "But if you did . . . if you asked me this thing . . . it would make it easier. This fight with Naraku, this horror that befell my brother, and the constant threat of my friends dying before me – all this would be easier, if there was something beyond it. A future, Houshi-sama." 

She leaned against him. 

"It would be easier, Houshi-sama . . . if you could just tell me . . . if you need me." 

His hand brushed her cheek, and he turned toward her, and for a moment she looked into his eyes and saw everything, all his fears and desires, all his loves and hates, and his lips touched hers, very gently, and before she could react, the moment was passed, and her chin was on his shoulder. 

"The day . . . when you know the answer to that question . . . when I can make a promise to you . . ." 

He tightened his grip on her shoulder. 

"I'm trying, Sango. I'm trying to get to the place where I can be truthful to you. I'm not there yet, but soon. I promise." 

"I know," she said. 

"It's too much, I know, to ask you to be patient for me. But I beg you, Sango. I beg you to give me more time." 

"It's alright, Houshi-sama. It's no good to force it, to ask you a question you're not ready to answer." She was crying now, though they were quiet tears, and hopefully he did not notice them. "I just wanted you to know . . . to know not to hold back, because you might fear how I think . . . because of how I act . . ." 

"Please don't cry, Sango. You won't be able to see the snow clearly." 

"The snow?" 

She looked up, and behold, the skies had opened up before them. Very nearly a blizzard, she thought, for the ground was already beginning to turn white. As she turned to Miroku, she saw him looking upward, his face a look of fascination, as if he were a much younger person. A look of boyish enthrallment, his eyes wide, his face brilliant and smiling. 

As she watched him, a large snowflake landed on his nose, prompting him to cross his eyes in an attempt to look at it. 

Laughing, Sango fell backward, hair splaying behind her, arms spread, and snowflakes falling upon her wide-open mouth and melting on her tongue. 

- - - 

Far from them, a priestess's servant named Suiki, recently relieved of her duties, returned to her village, where she thought well of her deceased husband, and yet began to entertain thoughts of seeking another. 

Farther still, a tennyo that had spent the better part of three centuries on Earth, many of which in the appearance of an old woman ascetic, or else a miko, shed her guise and returned home, receiving a grateful welcome in Heaven and the thanks of many relieved deities. 

And somewhere north, Naraku continued to flee, no doubt taking advantage of their delay to set his traps. Sesshoumaru would be not far behind, nor Kouga, nor Kikyou, but their time here, far from danger, was limited just the same. 

But for now, they were in a safe place. Inuyasha had gone to Kagome's home with her, and Shippou and Kirara were following Kaede, and hopefully assisting in her nightly chores. 

And he and the taiji-ya? 

They were home, or else, something close to it. He had never known the true home of his family, and had never held a strong connection to Mushin's temple. He had wandered so much of his life that the word "home" meant little to him. 

But he knew, knew with sureity, that any place where he could sit beside her, and see her laugh, and hold her – that was home to him. 

Here, beneath a sky that cast a celebratory snowfall upon them, nothing else mattered. 

**THE  
END**

**Author's note:** I'm not sure what to say. This story has consumed one year and six months of my life. It has served as an emotional outlet for a lot of personal feelings, and a creative outlet for a lot of frustrating events I've seen in the _Inuyasha_ series. It has - intentionally or otherwise - absorbed elements of my own personality and interests, and (I hope) betrays many hours of classroom and self-study in Japanese language, culture, history, and religion. 

The original inspiration for this story came from a half-dozen fanfics I read in early 2003, but I would guess that the catalyzing element was the first couple chapters of Sango-sama's "Love Beyond Life." I wanted to explore a character death, but in a way that was different from any other. It's not uncommon to have character death in a story, or even to have a major character die in the first chapter. But no story I was aware of began with a major character being resurrected, with no indication of how or why he died. 

So I ran with it. I never thought it would be this long. I've to date written 700 pages of text on this story, only a mere fraction of which has actually entered the story. I have written three full Sango/Miroku reunion scenes and at least eight endings. The actual story itself is approximately 126 pages and (ignoring my Author's notes) clocks in at about 49,000 words - plenty long enough for a novella, and not too shy of a novel's length. It's long enough that I don't think I myself would ever bother to read it if I came across it now. 

I regret a lot, especially the fact that I began to think of the little song blurbs above each chapter as mandatory, though I really do think the first two songs - "Mad World" and "Go Home" - set the tone for the story especially well. I like my "Session" technique, and the use of Interludes to suggest time passing, though I regret that I established a pattern with the First and Second Interlude, only to break it with the Third and Forth. 

But I still enjoy the beginning, and the ending, and the most important parts of the middle, and I suppose that's enough to say I'm proud of this story. 

I've received hundreds of Emails concerning this story over the past 18 months, and just as many reviews. I doubt I'll be receiving many more now that this is done, which is a bit sad, but hopefully there are a few people out there interested enough to engage in discussion about my stories, or their stories, or the _Inuyasha_ series. 

I doubt I'll be doing another fanfic like this for a while (if ever), but I still spend time on my website now and then, so for a while, I expect that will have the most recent information on what I'm doing. 

I humbly thank everyone for their fan mail and their support. 

Sincerely, 

Scribe Figaro 

Story written from 25 February 2003 to 12 August 2004


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